an empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild
by wild wolf free17
Summary: Drabbles set in the Marvel movies universe, unconnected to each other. Mostly Loki, Clint, and Steve&Bucky.
1. brothers and battles

**Title**: brothers and battles

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU for Thor film; semi-crack

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 195

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Avengers, Thor, people notice that Thor has a Trickster as brother

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><p>When Thor is banished after attacking the jötnar, Loki follows him. Thor is unable to reclaim his hammer, but Loki magics it out for him, and when the jötnar find their way into Asgard (Father's in his OdinSleep, and Baldr is such a nice guy, he didn't even <em>think <em>about welcoming the frost giants into their stronghold), Thor throws himself in front of Loki, taking a fatal blow meant for his little brother.

Loki, of course, curses him for it, but then he blasts the jötnar back and Thor's power is restored, and when Thor joins the Midgardian 'heroes,' Loki decides against returning to Asgard alone. (Father's awake, the jötnar tossed back to Jötunheimr, and Baldr banished for his inability to recognize friend from foe. He's sent to Niflheimr to spend time with Hel. It should do him some good.)

It doesn't take long for the Avengers (such a silly name, Loki tells Thor, but Thor likes it) to notice the chaos that follows Thor around, but when they ask, all he does is smirk that 'I'm a superhero alien god, _booyah'_ smirk, and half the time, the chaos saves their lives, anyway.


	2. the tongue, a sapphire of ash

Title: the tongue, a sapphire of ash

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: post-Avengers, but no spoilers - just speculation based on how superhero movies _always_ go

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 375

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any (no incest please), If you're going to be stupid, you'd better be tough.

* * *

><p>Thor is the strongest warrior in Asgard. He's trained for a thousand years, learned from the greatest teachers, honed his stamina and style. If it can be defeated, he can defeat it. He has no equal, when it comes to the battlefield.<p>

Thor is not stupid, not by any means, but books bore him. Pretty words from the courtiers don't impress him. The twists and turns of arguments annoy him. He does not look to the past for learning; he is the king of tomorrow, and history has no meaning.

Mother tells him to pay attention to all his tutors, not just his teachers of battle. Battle strategy he understands and excels at, but the rest – he has no interest in it.

Father says that a king needs to be more than a warrior. Asgard is a head above the rest of the realms and must remain so, and king is a politician, not just a war chief.

Thor always replies, "Isn't that what Loki is for?"

Loki, little brother, so clever, so swift. Loki, who has outsmarted their tutors since they were still toddling around. Loki Silvertongue, the greatest magician in Asgard. Thor does not understand him most of the time, but Loki always has a way out. Thor is the brawn and Loki the brains – that's what many have said, time and again. It doesn't bother Thor at all; he knows where his strengths lie.

When he is king, Loki will be his adviser. Loki will charm everyone and Thor will keep them in line.

At least… that is what he has always imagined, but now he asks Heimdallr quietly, "Can you see him?"

Loki has gone to ground, in the wake of the Avengers' victory. Whether he is somewhere on Midgard or elsewhere in the Nine Realms, Thor does not know. And Heimdallr replies, "No, I cannot. He is again shielded from my sight."

Thor sighs and turns, walks out onto the bridge. He is still the strongest warrior in Asgard, and his brother is still the greatest magician. But he no longer wishes to be king.

He wants only his brother to again laugh beside him, and then explain the intricacies of the prank, so that he may laugh, too.


	3. I blind the sun on his throne at noon

Title: I blind the sun on his throne at noon

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sara Teasdale

Warnings: post-Avengers; a bit abstract(ish)

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 100<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers, loki/any, 'told you so.'

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><p>Brute force is all well and good, truly, and it can destroy many things.<p>

Destroy, yes. But things can be rebuilt.

Humans aren't born to be ruled, though knees do bend. Heads bow. Humans can be subjected, and chained, and laid low. But that always leads to revolutions.

Brute force leads only to regimes being overthrown. Wars spread over generations, and blood soaking the fields until both sides starve.

Brute force wins wars, yes. But it is a momentary victory, and then the defeated revolt.

But a cajoling voice, and gentle guidance, and patience…

Let the children think they've won.


	4. war was what we talked about

**Title**: war was what we talked about and what the flowers were

**Fandom**: Avengers movieverse

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Gerald Stern

**Warnings**: goes AU during movie; maybe some bullshittery by the god of bullshit

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 520

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: I was going to turn this into a prompt for the kinkmeme. I wrote it myself instead.

* * *

><p><em>You are very angry, Doctor<em>, that cold, careful voice whispers. _So am I. My anger could burn worlds, flay realities. Unmake civilizations whose names you've never heard, whose languages your tongue could not form. My anger is old, unending_.

He cannot move. Cannot scream his rage, or lash out with fists, or punish the one who deserves it. Can only watch, and listen, and feel.

_Your anger is young, Doctor,_ that deep, even voice muses. _So young. So young and small and delightful. You could destroy cities, shatter bodies, rip apart armies. Oh, dear Doctor, don't you see?_

Far away, people are yelling. He almost recognizes the voices, can almost discern the words. But his gaze is caught, as his whole body heaves in rage and exhaustion, magic holding what hardly anything else could touch.

_Tell me, Doctor_, the fallen prince, the exiled god, the harbinger of a terrible army, says. _Tell me you don't dream of taking out your vengeance on those tiny little men who would use and abuse you. Tell me what humans have done to earn your loyalty, earn your control of such powerful rage._

He cannot think of a single thing. Cannot think of anything except Loki's hand, gentle against his skin, and Loki's voice, wrapping around him like a soft, warm blanket.

The world is shaking around him, falling, but Loki's eyes meet his. _Tell me, Doctor,_ he murmurs, _and I'll leave you be._

He says, _Please_, ceasing all movement.

Loki smiles. _Let me speak to your other half, dear one, and then we can take our leave of this place._

He's never been so aware of going from one to the other, but Bruce is gasping, would've doubled over if not for Loki's grip, and the moment he realizes who is holding him up, he freezes.

He remembers everything, the deal the other guy made, and he still can't think of a reason to refute Loki. Loki simply stares at him, ignoring the helicarrier struggling to fly, ignoring the bullets and shouts, and Bruce nods, so tired, so weary and wary and worn.

He's tried doing nothing. He's tried escaping. He's tried doing good. Maybe now it's time to go completely the other way.

_Come with me, Doctor_, Loki says gently, guiding him down the corridor with a hand on his back. Bruce doesn't look up from the floor as they go, until Loki stops, fingers lightly gripping Bruce's shoulder to keep him on his feet. _Escort Dr. Banner to the pick-up point and keep him safe, Agent Barton_, he commands the man with a quiver of arrows strapped to his back and a bow in his hand. Bruce actually blinks at that.

_Of course, sir, _Barton says.

Loki nods, turning back the way they came. _I'll be there shortly. Be prepared to leave._

Bruce watches him go, feeling a tiny bit bereft. _C'mon, doc_, Barton says, pulling out a gun and slinging the bow across his shoulders. _The boss gave us our orders._

Yes, the boss gave them their orders. And Loki made a scary bit of sense, when he confronted and contained the other guy.

_Okay,_ Bruce says, and follows closely on Barton's heels.


	5. The only sign of our obedience left

Title: The only sign of our obedience left

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: spoilers for movie; implied non-con; mentions of mind-control

Pairings: implied Loki/Clint, Coulson/Clint

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 375<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Hawkeye, He still sees things out of the corner of his eyes

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><p>After Thor takes his brother and the tesseract back to Asgard, Clint runs. He figures Nat could find him if she wanted, maybe if Fury asked, but he doesn't care.<p>

The world's safe, New York is rebuilding (like it always does), so Clint goes to ground so he can lick his wounds in peace.

He can't sleep. Every time he tries, he wakes up shaking. (Shivering. Not trembling. Not shuddering. _Shivering_. That's important.)

Clint doesn't remember what he dreams, the few times he manages REM. All he knows is that he wakes up shaking.

He can still feel Loki slithering around in his head. Can still hear his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he can still see Loki, see his master, his _god_.

Clint's never worshiped anything in his life, but he spread himself wide for Loki, and just the memory of it makes him shake with want. (Shiver. Not tremble. Not shudder. _Shiver_.) It's weak, and it's sick, and if he had Loki in front of him right now, he'd still fall to his knees and bow his head and ask for his god's command, and obey not just to the letter, but to the spirit. Go out of his way to make sure Loki was pleased.

He hates Loki. More than he's ever hated anything. He can name every man and woman he killed on Loki's word (_Phil_) and he helped fight off Loki's invasion of his home – but he didn't even try to fight Loki while Loki was inside him, filling up every little nook and cranny, taking Clint completely and making Clint his.

Didn't want to fight, when it was just him Loki had.

He wakes up shaking and knows he would've put an arrow through anyone's eye. Phil, Natasha, Captain America. He might've even enjoyed it, if Fury had been a hair slower and Clint hadn't had somewhere else to be.

Loki's gone. Back to Asgard and whatever medieval punishment they can come up with. Most of him wants it to _hurt_, to flay and burn and carve. A part of him knows that if Loki were being held on Earth, Clint might break him out.

He hates knowing that about himself.

He really hopes Natasha doesn't look for him.


	6. an angel and a god

**Title**: an angel and a god, sharing a peanut butter cup

**Fandom**: Thor/Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AUish for SN; spoilers for Thor; AU before the Avengers movie

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 240

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Thor (2011)/Supernatural, Loki + Gabriel, "So you are the one who has been using my name."

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><p>"So, you're the one who's been usin' my name?" he asks, biting a Reese in half.<p>

The pretty-boy godling blinks at him, not lowering his weapon. "How did you get in here?" he demands, and _something _pokes at Gabriel's mind. Coyote, Anansi, Loki - whoever he is today.

Maybe he's just a simple janitor. Hmm.

He shrugs. It doesn't really matter.

"Answer me!" the godling hisses. He sure does have a temper problem. The janitor looks closer. Not just a temper problem: an insanity problem, too. And a paternal/fraternal problem.

Awesome. The janitor knows just what to do with those.

"Come with me, kiddo," he says, holding out another - untouched - Reese.

The godling stares at him. "Are you mad?" he asks, that pretty accent adding something shivery to the words.

"Yup," the janitor says, shaking the Reese. "I know no one ever taught you not to take candy from strangers, so c'mon. Places to go, brothers to bother."

The weapon vanishes from the godling's hand and he hesitantly takes the Reese. Without letting his eyes drop, he nibbles at one side. Then he devours the rest in one bite, moaning, "Oh, my."

The janitor grins. "C'mon, kiddo," he says, holding out a hand. "I got a whole factory of those."

"If this is a trick," the godling starts.

"Yeah, yeah, hellfire and fury raining down, I know," the janitor interrupts. "Don't worry."

The godling takes his hand.


	7. forget and smile

Title: forget and smile

Fandom: Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Christina Rosseti

Warnings: post-Ghost Protocol; pre-Avengers

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 230<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol, Brandt, not the first time falling (not the first time hitting the ground)

* * *

><p>William Brandt is a good alias. Brandt's a good guy, loyal, nice. Easy-going, funny, follows orders.<p>

Brandt's an easier identity than Clint Barton, that's for sure. Less enemies, too.

Not that that's hard, actually, come to think of it. Barton pisses people off just by breathing, sometimes, seems like.

Brandt's a good guy. He's gonna miss him.

.

"Welcome back, Agent Barton," Coulson says, wearing a bland smile. He can see the genuine pleasure there, though. It soothes some of the sting of having to kill Brandt. A little.

"Good to be back, sir," he lies, shoving all of Brandt to the file cabinet in the back of his mind, where all of the men he's been rest until he needs them again.

Brandt's team will look for him, he's sure. They know that death isn't always final, especially without a body.

"Agent Romanova is waiting at the range," Coulson tells him.

He nods, walking past Coulson. Brandt was a good shot, sure. But Brandt could never make a third of the shots Barton does, and he needs to shake this off. Why is it so hard?

Brandt was a lie. They're _all _lies. He hasn't been real since his parents died and he started playing this game.

Brandt is dead. Barton's alive. Simple as that.

He'll be Barton, until Barton has to die, too.

Easy as bull's-eye.


	8. Mother, I'm frightened

**Title**: Mother, I'm frightened of this thunder and lightning

**Fandom**: Supernatural/Avengers movieverse

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Leonard Cohen

**Warnings**: future!fic for Avengers movieverse; AU mishmash for Supernatural (I've seen maybe five minutes of season 7); I gleefully resurrected a dead Supernatural character

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 1040

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Avengers/Supernatural, Loki+Crowley, "I can give you the world. All it will cost is your soul."

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><p>He finds the godling perched on a mountaintop, gazing out across the horizon. Everyone who's anyone in their business had felt him the moment he materialized in their speck of the cosmos. The amount of chaos coiled in him is <em>breathtaking<em>. Crowley is truly envious of the brat.

"Hello, sweetie," he says, announcing himself with a flair even the Winchesters might have appreciated.

The godling ignores him.

Crowley frowns, crossing his arms across his meatsuit's chest. "Well, now, that's just rude," he mutters. He stares at the godling's back for a moment, waiting. "_Hello_," he repeats. "I'm the King of Hell, Lord of Deals – I can help you own this rock if you want." For a price, of course. He learned his lesson about doing things from the goodness of his heart with the Winchesters.

"I neither need nor want your aid," the godling drawls. His voice is flat and cold, and there's so much malice threaded through the words that Crowley shivers deep inside, in all that's left of what he was before Hell.

"You won't get this world without me," Crowley blusters through the fear. He went toe-to-toe with an angel hopped up on leviathans – this is just some child from another realm.

The godling turns his head, glancing over his shoulder. "I don't want this world, little thing," he says, gaze flicking up and down Crowley before he looks back at the sky.

"Then… why are you here?" Crowley asks.

The godling laughs, and dread crawls along Crowley's meatsuit's spine. There is something terrifying in that laugh, something that reminds Crowley of the knowledge that while Death was chained for the moment, eventually the chain would rust.

Who - _what_- is this child? Crowley had thought his kind just another breed of pagans, and Lucifer tore his way through those. Easy as demons, easy as humans.

"I'm here to play," the godling says, "and to rest."

Crowley has rarely been speechless. Staring at the godling, though, he can't think of a thing to say.

After a few seconds, the godling asks, "Is the pool of power on this rock so small you came to beg _me _for an alliance?" He scoffs. "I grow less enamored of this world all the time."

"Oy!" Crowley exclaims. "That's _my _rock you're insulting."

But the godling is right. Crowley blinks at him, realizing that's why he'd come here. Lucifer is caged, Castiel MIA, and the Winchesters back on their righteous crusade. The angels are confined to Heaven when not on specially mandated missions, and Crowley doesn't even know who took over the reins there. Death reclaimed all the Horsemen rings and went back to wherever he was when not chained by fallen angels or itty bitty mortal men who really hadn't the least idea what they were doing.

Out of everyone on Earth, in Hell, or in Heaven that Crowley has access to, this godling is the most powerful, and Crowly has no clue how to use him.

"Keep your rock," the godling says, "but get off my mountain."

"Right then," Crowley murmurs. He is not a moron, and he decides to get while the getting is good.

He might come up with a better plan, figure out what the godling really wants. Maybe. But maybe he doesn't really want the godling's soul. There's something off with the boy.

Yeah. Better to leave that one alone. Never let it be said Crowley doesn't learn.

.

(Loki watches the sun set, rise, and set again before he moves. The Asgardians do not yet know he is no longer in their cell. The Midgardians do not yet know he's returned.

His 'allies' will realize soon enough he's free, and he already knows they're on the way.

There is nowhere for him to go. No world that will take him. No one in any realm who wants him, or cares for him, or will help him.

He is so tired.

Between one breath and the next, someone is beside him, the only herald a flutter of wings. Loki flinches away, instantly crouched with knives in both hands.

"Hey, kiddo," the man says, shadow-wings on his back and a chocolate bar in his hand. "We've got some things in common, you know."

"I don't know," Loki hisses. "Who are you?"

The man smiles, small and warm. "I used to go by Loki," he says. "A few other things, too."

Narrowing his eyes, Loki rises to his full height, towering over the stranger. "Explain," he demands.

Instead, the man holds out the candy. "Want some?" he asks cheerfully.

Loki is never at a loss of words, but staring down at the little, winged man, his tongue loses its way. After a long, painfully silent moment, he pathetically says, "What?"

"Look, kid, I know that family's a bitch. Trust me, do I know _that_." He tears a piece of the chocolate bar off and shoves it into his mouth, continuing to speak even while he chews. "And it seems to me that you're at a bit of a loss for the moment, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I was like that once, a very long time ago."

"I am a thousand years old," Loki interrupts, grimacing at the pieces of chocolate on the man's lips.

The man laughs, free and loud. "Oh, little boy, I am _so _much older than that," he chortles. "I was ancient when Ymir crawled out of the mud."

Loki winces at the blasphemy, and the man holds out the chocolate again. "Take some," he entreats, face serious. "I mean it. I don't know what your plan is, if you even have one. But you're alone. And I'm alone." He shrugs. "I don't know if that All-Father fucker named you after me, or I took the name from you. But we both have family troubles, and we're both embodiments of trickery, so."

There has been no one Loki could actually trust for a long time. He had no true friends in Asgard, forever Thor's little tag-along. Then the Chitauri and their lord, pulling him from the abyssal void – seeming to be saviors, but so far from that.

He is so tired.

Loki slowly reaches for the chocolate.)


	9. Glory comes streaming

Title: Glory comes streaming  
>Fandom: Avengers movieverseNorse mythology  
>Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Macrina Wiederkehr<br>Warnings: takes place almost immediately post movie; the only knowledge I have about Thanos I learned from Wikipedia; I gleefully pull things from Norse mythology; implied non-con  
>Pairings: a smidge of implied LokiClint, implied Thanos/Loki  
>Rating: PGish<br>Wordcount: 1570  
>Point of view: third<br>Note: thanks to faithunbreakable for helping finalize this.

* * *

><p>Beneath the bindings, curled under the chains, a tiny tendril remains. Odin and Frigga's craft is well-done, and it might have been enough, but for what Loki saw deep in the void.<p>

They should know better, really. A thousand years of mutual study – he of Asgard, Asgard of him – and none of them think to wonder why his plan failed so utterly? His 'family,' father, mother, brother – are they truly all so blind?

Loki is bound, Loki is gagged. Loki is locked away, to think about his crimes. To seek enlightenment, in the barest of cells.

Loki bows to no one. Loki is no one's ally. Loki has never been anyone's friend, but no one has ever been Loki's.

A mother's love went into the chains. A father's disappointment. A brother's furious and betrayed hands twined them around him.

He is not immortal, not truly. But he requires no sustenance, the chains keeping him healthy. They suppress both his jötunn nature and his ás magic. He is helpless, shackled to the wall deep in the bowels of the palace where he grew and learned and wondered why nothing he ever did was enough.

It is quiet, here. No guards watch him, though surely Heimdallr rarely looks away. It is quiet and Loki rests his head against the cool stone.

He keeps his mind from 'his' army, from Thanos and the tesseract, the weaknesses lovingly offered him by clouded blue eyes. He doesn't need to ponder his failures, when failures they weren't.

Loki's plan was never meant to succeed. It is generous to even call it a 'plan.' He merely sought to pit the Chitauri against someone with the might to defeat them, and allow him a moment of peace to reclaim everything that was his before he fell from the bridge.

No. Loki sighs, eyes closed, head against the wall. What he will deny to everyone else, he must admit to himself: he had meant to die, when he let go. Even now, he wishes he had.

He wonders if Heimdallr saw him in the Chitauri's grasp. Wonders if he told the Allfather. Thor knew they were 'allies,' he and Thanos.

If he had no other reason to want Asgard burnt and broken, that would be enough.

This is to be his punishment: eternal solitary confinement. Until he shows remorse for all his great evil. He's still unclear what his supposed crimes are. Maybe they are like his 'imagined slights,' ever the lying silver-tongued Loki. He was king when he turned the Bifröst onto Jötunheimr. He was king when he sent a weapon against traitors, in a world no ás could yet call equal or ally. And he led that Chitauri army, yes, but to their resounding defeat, in a world of petty, squabbling children.

Well. Until Thanos arrives. Maybe Heimdallr's watchful eye has seen him. Maybe it hasn't.

Maybe that team of mortals will be able to pound Thanos into the ground. They defeated Loki handily enough.

He smiles, eyes still closed, wondering if his favored servant has found the tiny seed left in him. It won't sprout, of course, until Loki is free again. Until he gazes upon Loki. Until Loki holds out a hand and calls his name, his beloved little archer.

The plan was never meant to succeed, as such. He did, of course.

Here he is, safe and sound, given time and rest.

The chains are meant to bind his magic. To keep him from touching any of it, inborn or learned. He cannot use brute strength to break the chains; even that green beast would fail. He cannot freeze and shatter them with his hated jötunn biology. He cannot force them with magic.

He could pick them, a trick he learned centuries ago, but he's enjoying the silence.

Loki Odinson died as he fell. Loki Laufeyson died on a battlefield, a discarded infant. Only Loki is left.

Loki in the stillness. Loki in the quiet. Loki, bound and gagged, forgotten in the bowels of a lie.

Oh, they should all know better, those fools who ignored or jeered for a thousand years.

He sinks into himself, to the place the Chitauri never touched. The place Thanos sought but did not find.

Thanos knew what he had. Odin never did.

A jötunn prince, raised æsir… only Odin and Frigga are yet his superiors, with regards to seidr_. _Or, well, they were.

Before the void.

Odin should have killed him. Left him to die on Jötunheimr, or executed him when Thor returned with the war criminal Loki, disinherited son, the vile betrayer, insidious and triumphant. So very triumphant, even forced to kneel, head shoved down.

Redemption is possible, Odin intoned before all the court. All of Loki's crimes were laid bare, while Thor held him down on his knees, one hand curled around his neck.

Thor had done worse while still a boy. Loki was gagged, so he could not defend himself. Not that he would have. No, he learned that lesson well long ago.

Loki the liar. Loki the truth-twister. No, he would not have defended himself to the court or the king.

There is nothing to defend.

He has quiet. He has peace.

He has time.

He has time, and a tendril of magic, deep inside.

Thanos is coming. Thanos, who taught Loki far more than he learned in turn. Thanos, who will raze and destroy in his mad quest. Thanos, who Loki is certain could stand before the Allfather – and survive.

Thanos, who will win because the æsir have forgotten they have equals. Have forgotten there might be a superior force, out in the wilds of Yggdrasil's branches.

But Loki fell through the void. Loki fell and came out the other side as a distinguished guest of Thanos, and he looked deep into the tesseract, and he knows. He knows.

The tesseract is a stepping-stone, smaller even than the Casket. All relics of a greater time. Ancient – and weakening.

Thanos is coming, and Odin growing older all the time. Thor will be no better a king now than he was during Loki's last harmless prank, the other realms are spineless, and Loki could warn them.

Should he warn them?

No. He is gagged, after all. He is gagged and his mind at ease. He'll not waste words on those who refuse to hear.

A thousand years of never being enough, eternities with Thanos (bent and broken, spread wide and plundered, and still Thanos never found his core, the little smoldering pile of ice and fire that is Loki, Loki, Loki the discarded, Loki the abandoned, Loki the endless and Loki the wrathful, Loki who read every book and learned every twist of seidr and fell into the void.

There is nothing, between the worlds. Nothing. But Loki fell through it and landed alive on the other side.

Can any ás before him claim that?

No. Not a single being in any world.

Loki the triumphant, for when all else is taken, he still has himself.)

Eternities with Thanos. There is no one in Asgard who would have withstood him. Especially not Thor.

And Heimdallr saw it all, of course. The All-Seeing. Eyes of Asgard. Heimdallr saw, but no one came for Loki. Heimdallr must have seen it, since Loki had not the strength to shield after his fall.

Loki the forgotten. Loki the lost.

Thanos is coming, and Asgard will burn.

Loki smiles, beneath the gag. His face is sore, his mind quiet.

A thousand years. He can find redemption. The Allfather promised. Think upon his crimes and admit his wrongdoing. Make amends. Repent.

As his greatest servant on Midgard would eloquently say, Fuck that.

If Loki's intention had been to conquer Midgard with an army gifted from Thanos, he would have failed utterly.

If Loki's intention was to unbind himself from Thanos, to find somewhere silent and dark to rest, to find someone who could be made loyal only to him…

Well. He smiles, wondering if Heimdallr watches. Of course Heimdallr does.

Deep inside, his magic coils.

They should know better, these people who watched him grow. Watched him learn. Taught him so many things.

They should know that Loki never fails. Intricate are his weavings. Many are his plots. Layers upon layers, oh Loki of the silver tongue.

Thanos will focus on Midgard, at first. And then Asgard will get involved, for Thor's beloved realm of pets must be protected.

But that is tomorrow. Today, Loki is safe enough. He will let his magic replenish itself and then he will retrieve his servant from Midgard and then they will go to ground and wait.

There are many who find themselves displeased with Asgard's dominance. All of them will answer Loki's summons, sent through the air of Yggdrasil's branches. They will come from Álfheimr, and Svartálfaheimr, and Niflheimr, and Muspellsheimr, and Vanaheimr.

A few might even come from Asgard.

A single loyal servant will be a nice start, since only Thor has ever claimed to be on Loki's side. And considering Thor was the one who brought him 'home' bound and gagged…

Loki truly wishes for Thor to challenge Thanos. He's quite certain that will end the way Loki's encounter with the green beast did.

Tomorrow, though. All of that will come tomorrow.

Today, Loki closes his eyes, rests his head on the stone, lets himself find solace in the silence.


	10. The man with grey hands smiles

Title: The man with grey hands smiles

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: torture; trauma; control issues; improperly punctuated dialogue due to stylistic choices

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 2390

Point of view: third

Note: thanks to faithunbreakable for discussing a few things with me.

Prompt:

_Clint is sent on a solo mission and is captured. He spends a long time in captivity, enduring terrible things. As the time goes by and no one comes for him, Clint starts to believe that the rest of the team and SHIELD have forgotten about him/doesn't care. (Would like the rest of the team to actually be searching, or Fury being a bastard and doesn't tell them what happened to Clint.)_

_So, seeing no way out, Clint gives up and resigns himself to his fate._

_Enter Loki._

_When Clint wakes up, he is clean, warm, not hurting and feels safe. And Loki can't be a bad guy when he just rescued Clint from hell, can he? And Clint has no idea how to repay his former enemy for that, but he sure is going to try._

* * *

><p>He doesn't know what day it is. He knows he's felt worse pain in his life, but he can't remember when or why, and it's dark and cold, and he hasn't seen anyone in forever, and he knows he's going crazy, he has to be, alone in the colddark, whimpering every time he shivers because he just hurts so much.<p>

He doesn't know what day it is, but nobody has come for him. Someone should have – he had a family, an actual family, a team, the greatest in the world, geniuses and gods and soldiers who never left anyone behind and – and – Tasha? He had a Tasha, red hair and dangerous hands, Tasha who wouldn't forget him, who would never leave him. But Tasha isn't here.

He can't even recall his name, but he knows, deep in his aching bones, that Tasha would never leave him. But she isn't here. She hasn't come for him.

She must be dead, Tasha with the red hair and dangerous hands. She's dead, so the rest aren't coming for him.

He's alone in the dark, every bone in his hands broken, blinded by the people he hasn't heard in – what day is it? He doesn't know doesn't know doesn't know – and he's never getting out of here. No one is coming. No one cares.

He doesn't know the day or his name, and he's alone, and Tasha Tasha Tasha – she's dead dead dead.

Up above his head, something explodes. Screams. Heat soaks through the ceiling.

Has Tasha finally showed up? He cranes his neck, trying to see anything, but his eyes are still useless, if they're even in his head anymore. He can't tell. His bones creak, the ones that aren't shattered, and he lets his head hang, shoulders slumping down. He's tired, but he can't sleep in the dark. He can't remember why not.

He can't remember why not, but the heat feels good, and the screams are the only music he's had in however long, and the explosions, oh, they're lovely, and then there's a hand on his brow, lips against his skin, and nothing else but bone-deep relief as all his aches fade away. Sleep, he hears, unsure if it's real or not, but he's cradled in something warm, something strong, something gentle, and he's so tired, and this dark isn't cold. So he lets himself sink into it.

Tasha must have come for him. They're both dead now, but he's not cold and he's not alone.

It must be Tuesday. Good things always happen on Tuesdays.

He sleeps.

.

When he wakes up, he's on something soft and he can see again. Hello, a gentle voice says from the side, so he turns his head and it doesn't hurt, and there's someone there, dark hair and bright eyes, hands clasped on his knees, pale skin – he looks nothing like the people who put him in the hole and left, who stole his eyes.

This man gave his eyes back, and he made them scream, and he blew them up.

Hello, he says back.

Do you know who you are? the man asks, placing one hand next to him.

He shakes his head. The man says, You're Clint. You're my warrior hawk, but I – I must ask your forgiveness.

Why? he asks, wondering if he can touch the pale, strong hand, and then he does. He does and the man smiles, turning his hand so that his fingers wrap around Clint's – and yes, that sounds right, he's Clint. He's Clint and he's not cold, and there's so much light he can see everything.

I allowed someone else to utilize your skills, Clint, the man explains, and they lost you. They allowed the enemy to take you.

Yes, he remembers. He shudders, shaking his head. But you got me back, he reassures his master.

Of course I did, his master says, smiling. Sleep some more, Clint. We'll talk again after you're caught up on your rest.

Clint tightens his grip on his master's hand as he stands. I can't – please, sir, he says. I can't remember your name.

His master smiles again, leaning down to kiss his forehead. I am Loki, he murmurs into Clint's skin. You are my warrior hawk, the greatest of all my men. Sleep now.

Thank you, Clint whispers, letting the dark have him again, because it's warm and soft and Loki has said it's alright.

For just a moment, he wonders if Tasha belongs to Loki, too. But no – Tasha is dead. She never came for him, and she would've, if she were Loki's.

Tasha is dead and Clint is Loki's, and he's safe and warm and has his eyes again.

.

It's a Tuesday. Loki gives Clint a bow and a quiver and stands at his back as Clint studies them. Show me what you can do, Loki says. Show me what they couldn't take from you.

Clint hits everything he aims at. Loki touches his shoulder and says, Well done.

.

Clint does not need to know Loki's endgame or his plans, beyond what is required of him for Loki to succeed. He's safe and he's warm and he shares Loki's bed, offering everything he is to his lord and savior. Loki could take – it is his right, as Clint's master, to take whatever he wants.

But Clint wants to give it all to Loki. As thanks. All he has is his eyes and his heart, and he offers them both to Loki.

And Loki caresses his skin, kisses him, whispers how wonderful he is, Loki's wondrous warrior hawk. The best of all his men.

Loki tells him to lead the next team, when they break into a SHIELD storage facility. You'll know what to take, Loki says. It'll call to you.

Clint has not left Loki's immediate vicinity since Loki wrapped around him in the colddark and carried him away. But he will see to it that this is the most successful mission of any Loki himself didn't lead.

.

Clint orders his men to strip anything of value, as well as make sure to get everything on Loki's list. He looks around with his careful eyes, trying to gauge what Loki might want him to see.

And there. On the far wall, away from anything else. A gorgeous, high-tech bow. It does call to him. His hands ache to hold it.

He takes it, of course. And when he presents it to Loki, Loki smiles and drops a deep, warm kiss on his lips.

.

What do you remember from before? Loki asks, watching Clint eat a pb&j. Loki had tried some, when Clint offered, and declared it not displeasing, but he didn't want any more of his own.

I remember no one came for me, Clint replies, licking his lips for stray peanut butter. He remembers a team, people he would've died for – geniuses and gods and soldiers. Tasha. He remembers days alone in the dark, shivering in the cold, shattered bones and eyes that burned. He remembers killing people for money, being small and always hitting his target, shouts and bruises. I remember, he says, meeting Loki's gaze, I remember you.

Loki smiles, stretching his arm across the table, palm up for Clint.

Clint puts his hand in Loki's and knows that he'll do anything Loki asks. Anything Loki orders.

He is Loki's warrior hawk, the best of all Loki's men, and all he wants is to obey Loki's command.

.

The first time he sees the Avengers, he knows who they are. Geniuses and gods and soldiers, and a red-haired woman with dangerous hands.

Tasha is not dead. She still didn't come for him.

.

"Oh, fuck," Iron Man says, staring at him. Thor and Captain America are both speechless, and Hulk roars.

Tasha lowers her gun, eyes wide. None of them have ever seen so much emotion on her face.

Clint's hands are empty, his bow with Loki.

I will come retrieve you in three days, Loki promised. Gather all the information you can and be ready.

These people left him alone in the dark, eyes burnt out and bones broken.

"You're… you're alive," Tasha whispers.

Clint knows how to act, how to pretend, how to fake. He used to be so good at it. He pulls on a dozen masks now, because he has to do this for Loki.

"I," he says, letting himself sway in place. "I. Tasha?" He goes down hard, like a man who just can't stand anymore.

Thor and Captain America catch him before he hits the ground. Natasha puts her gun away.

They left him alone in the dark, but they welcome him home.

Loki had warned him they would.

.

The first day is spent sequestered in med-bay. He lies to the doctors, medical and head-shrinking, and then to Fury, before his old team is allowed in to see him. He lies to them, too.

He tells them about the dark, and the cold. There are scars on his body – but there have always been scars on his body. Loki is a benevolent god and healed Clint of everything, so he explains, in a tired, hesitant voice, about being alone. Alone for days.

"You've been gone for two years," Natasha tells him, as close as she can be without touching. He reaches for her and she clings tightly.

Tasha had been the one person he never shied from.

But Tasha never came for him.

.

The second day is spent curled up with Natasha wherever she drags him to. He hasn't been cleared yet, by the doctors or Fury, but all of the Avengers follow them around, determined to spend as much time with Clint as possible. He's been missing for two years, after all. And he was either let go or escaped (that's still unknown), and found his way home.

Two years in the dark, he tells them. Two years alone, and then he saw his chance, took it, and came home to them.

Natasha believes him. Because she does, so do the others, the geniuses and god and soldier. They don't know not to.

Loki had said they'd be so relieved to find him alive and healthy and sane. They'd welcome him, arms spread wide, take him into the bosom of their organization. He's watched so he can't go anywhere sensitive, but he remembers everything he sees. He'll be able to tell Loki.

Whatever information he's supposed to gather, he has no idea. So far, all he's learned is what happens when an agent appears after two years of being thought dead.

They didn't look for him. They thought he was dead.

Maybe he should forgive them.

He doesn't. They should've known. They should've known and come for him, but Loki saved him from the colddark, and he is Loki's now.

He wasn't always. He knows that.

Head resting on Natasha's shoulder, listening to Tony and Thor discuss nothing, Steve and Bruce throwing in an occasional comment, he knows he used to be one of them. Loki's enemy. All the memories are in his head – the first time Loki had him, the battle for Manhattan, laughing with Natasha while Loki was dragged away shackled and gagged.

But he was alone in the colddark and Loki wrapped him in warmth and returned his eyes, and these people, they left him there. They lost him.

Loki found him.

So he stores everything he sees and hears, and he'll tell it all to Loki, because he's not one of them anymore.

He's Loki's warrior hawk, and he'll do whatever he can to make sure all of Loki's plans succeed.

.

The third day is spent debriefing – in detail – with Fury himself. Clint looks around for Coulson twice – Coulson didn't leave him in the colddark. Coulson was dead before that, for a year. Killed by Loki, the first time Loki had Clint.

Fury's eye tracks Clint, and he waits for Clint's full attention.

"Start at the beginning," Fury orders. "Anything you remember."

Clint tells the truth. He just doesn't tell all of it.

.

Natasha takes him to the cafeteria for supper. Thor fills a tray for him, Bruce and Steve bracket him, and Tony rambles on about everything he's missed. Apparently, Tony designed a dozen new bows that no one is as handy with as he would be.

Clint promises to try them out. He knows that Loki should be here for him any minute; he keeps glancing away from his ex-team, wondering what face Loki is wearing.

The alarm shrieks. He flinches and then Hulk is scooping him up, Captain America shouting for Hulk to keep him safe.

He struggles in Hulk's grip, of course, and shouts to be let go, but Hulk hurries deeper into the complex as everyone scrambles to find the intruders.

Hulk turns a corner and collapses. Clint tumbles forward, landing in a crouch at Loki's feet. Loki, he breathes out, relieved.

Come, my warrior hawk, Loki says with a warm smile. Time for us to be on our way. He holds out a hand.

Clint grips him hard, straightening up, and sighs with relief when, within an instant, they're back in Loki's bedroom, safe from the world.

Lay with me, Loki commands, efficiently stripping Clint's SHIELD-wear away and letting it drop on the floor.

He falls into Loki, molding himself to Loki's body, and sleeps.

.

A dozen missions happen before he sees the Avengers again.

I care not if they live or die, except for Thor. He must live, Loki had said. The rest - their fates are in your hands.

Clint looks at them all through his scope, weighing how he used to feel about them up against the colddark and being alone.

Geniuses and gods and soldiers. Red hair and dangerous hands.

Thor yells at his brother. Iron Man snarks, Hulk swats at Loki, Captain America tells him to surrender peacefully.

Black Widow looks up at Hawkeye's nest.

He remembers when he had this shot before, and didn't take it. When he brought her home to SHIELD, when Coulson went to bat for them both, when Fury threw up his hands and shook his head in disgust.

He owes her his life.

But she left him alone in the colddark.

Black Widow opens her mouth to warn her team about Loki's warrior hawk – and he decides.


	11. no less a devil

Title: no less a devil

Fandom: Supernatural/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: future!fic for both? I have no idea what led to this point.

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 280<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Gen or either Loki/Tony or Thorki is fine by me. Just. Something happens and Loki should've died or something else absolutely bad would've happened to him, Castiel saves him and Loki doesn't see why Castiel bothered.

* * *

><p>He's alive. His eyes open and he lunges up, on his feet and knives in hand, before he realizes he should not have his knives, or his feet, or the air he's gulping down with great gasps.<p>

"Be calmed, Loki," a soothing, soft voice says. "You are saved."

Saved? What is saved? He should be dead - he _was_ dead. He deserved death and all the torments there.

"What are you?" he demands, turning to the man - short, small, eyes as blue as the tesseract. There are wings at the man's back, of shadow and flame, and the man smiles, tucking them away.

"I am Castiel," the man says. "You are safe."

"What do you want with me?" Loki asks, fingers clenched around the knives he shouldn't have.

"You have a grand purpose," the man says. "You should not have been in the pit. Why do you doubt me?"

"Why do I doubt you?" Loki repeats with a scoff. What a stupid question. Does this man not know who he is? What he has done? "You must want something from me," he says. "I earned every moment of pain. You pulled me out for a reason. Tell me."

The man smiles again, so sadly it aches in the place where – were Loki anyone else – he might have a heart. "Good things do happen, Loki."

Loki rolls his eyes, vanishing his knives. "Not to me," he mutters, turning away. "I'll be going now."

"I will see you again, Loki," the man says. "Be good."

Loki laughs. He's alive, he's unharmed, and all his magic is intact. Clearly, his savior has no idea who he saved.

This will be fun.


	12. where my dreams slice me into pieces

Title: where my dreams slice me into pieces

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 490

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>There are shadows in the back of Clint's eyes. He sees them when he looks in the mirror.<p>

No one else does.

.

Cognitive recalibration. Nice theory, if a bit simple – and wrong.

Clint's done the reading. Asgard is a realm of warriors, and Loki grew up there, raised as one of them. He'd be prepared for hits to the head.

If there wasn't so much chaos, it would have occurred to someone else, too.

But Loki is caged, bound and gagged, waiting for the tesseract to be released into Thor's custody.

Clint watches him from a safe distance and knows Loki isn't broken. He isn't even beaten.

Shadows lurk in the back of Clint's eyes and, beneath the gag, his ex-god is smiling.

.

In the months following the fought-off invasion, Loki haunts almost every dream or nightmare Clint has. Loki's voice, Loki's hands, Loki his lord and master – the only thing Clint has ever worshipped.

He fights on a team, lies to everyone that's he's fine, and looks forward to the few hours of sleep he gets a week.

He doesn't ask Thor what Loki's punishment is.

(In a prison on another world, a caged prince smiles and the last lock is undone.)

.

It's no surprise when he's looking in the mirror to see if the shadows have grown and Loki stands behind him.

Loki trails a finger along his shoulders, down his spine, murmurs, "Are you not pleased at my return?"

Clint bows his head, arguing with himself – SHIELD's agent wants to sound the alarm and go down swinging. Loki's right hand wants to hit his knees and bare his throat.

"Yes, sir," Clint replies just as quietly.

Loki smiles and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "Your eyes are beautiful, Clint," he says softly. "A wondrous shade of blue. It'd be a shame to obscure them again."

Clint can only nod, watching their reflections. Loki places his hands on Clint's hips and orders gently, "Stay with my brother's team of heroes. Keep on as you have."

Clint's eyes aren't clouded. He's been cleared. He's trusted.

Cognitive recalibration is a crock of shit, and even Natasha is fooled.

Loki turns Clint around, kisses him hard, and vanishes.

.

Thor, looking grave, announces at the team dinner that Loki escaped but no one knows where he's gone. Even the All-Seeing gatekeeper can't get a lock on him.

Clint's eyes are the same blue they've been all his life and he reacts the most vocally, demanding to know how the greatest minds on Asgard failed so fucking hard.

A tiny, dying part of him is disappointed that Natasha falls for it. That same part used the style she'd taught him to lose on the helicarrier.

By the time he goes to bed, faking rage, that part is gone for good.

.

Of course Loki is in his dreams.

The shadows have swallowed Clint's eyes, and they've never been so blue.


	13. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair

Title: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Shelley

Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology

Warnings: post-apocalyptic, movie spoilers; AUish – all I know about Thanos, I learned from wikipedia

Pairings: gennish

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 405

Point of view: third

Prompt: _In the movie Tony says "And, Loki, he's a full-tilt diva... he wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a... monument built to the sky with his name plastered..." and I was immediately reminded of the poem Ozymandiasby Percy Bysshe Shelley._

_I would like something involving Loki based on this part of the poem:_

**_"Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_**  
><strong><em>Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,<em>**  
><strong><em>The lone and level sands stretch far away."<em>**

_Perhaps involving the ruins of Jotenheim?_

* * *

><p>After, all he has is time. Asgard is burnt, Midgard barren, and Thanos turns his gaze to the remaining realms. All but Jötunheimr, and Helheimr - but Thanos will go there, eventually, kneel before the Lady of the Dead and offer the ash of eight realms as his sacrifice in her name.<p>

Whether or not Hel will take his hand, Loki does not know. He does not care anymore.

He has eternity, the only one left of everybody he's ever known, and it is his fault. He has all the magic of nine realms, all the rage and jealousy and anguish – and none of it matters.

There is no throne. But he has never wanted a throne.

_In thanks, ally, I grant you your life_. Thanos' hand had burned where it touched Loki's face. His breath stank of desiccation and decay. Loki stared fearlessly into his eyes and Thanos grinned, the bones of a thousand worlds caught in his teeth.

This was always coming, no matter what Loki did. This is Ragnarök, but not in a way even the All-Father or Heimdallr could have foreseen.

Loki does not ask forgiveness. Instead, he goes to the place where, perhaps, all this could be said to have begun. The Bifrost is destroyed, but Loki never needed it. He takes a step and is on Jötunheimr, standing in the ruins of Laufey's palace, ice and snow and nothing.

Is this where it began? Where he made deals and arranged for jötnar to sneak into the All-Father's home, where Thor started a war because Loki talked him into it, where Loki discovered his true nature – is this the place that led to Thanos?

Jötunheimr is Thanos' gift to Loki, in all its grandeur. Loki laughs, staring out over the ice. He laughs until his stomach hurts, until tears freeze on his face, until he wears the shape of his birth again.

He laughs while Thanos burns Ālfheimr, scorches Vanaheimr, razes Svartálfaheimr, chars Niflheimr. Múspellsheimr, of course, he turns into a solid block of ice and shatters into stardust.

Hel's realm is left untouched. All the souls there scream, all the souls from all the realms, and Loki listens, eyes closed, face to the coldest of winds.

Thanos kneels before Hel, and she takes his hand, and it is Ragnarök.

Loki touches the ice, all that remains of Jötunheimr, and does not ask forgiveness. There is no one left to ask.


	14. deadman's float

Title: I alternate treading water and deadman's float

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: post-film; a bit of language

Pairings: implied Loki/Clint, unrequited Clint/Coulson, Tony/Bruce, past-Natasha/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1225

Point of view: third

Prompt: lit

* * *

><p>"Look, all I'm saying is that we don't know much about each other," Stark grouses at the next 'team dinner.' How he got everyone here is a mystery to Clint. He let Natasha drag him, but only because he's tired of people he's known for years flinching when they see him.<p>

(And, honestly, he could've brought down the damn thing anytime. It'd've been fucking _easy_. The fact that it took alien mind-control to make him do it should mean _something_.)

"You've hacked all our files," Natasha says mildly.

"Well, yeah." Stark doesn't even sound ashamed. Of course he's not.

"So, you wanna play Truth or Dare?" Banner asks. He looks completely unruffled. "Or Never Have I Ever?"

Clint snorts. Rogers glances from him to Stark's shit-eating grin, but before he can say something, Thor drains his beer and slams the bottle down. "What are these games?" he demands.

Stark's grin widens before he explains. Natasha rolls her eyes, but Thor seems excited and Rogers is willing.

Truth or dare with superheroes (geniuses and science experiments and a monster and a god and a self-destructing drunk and the Black Widow) who saved the world. What could go wrong?

"Truth or dare, Brucie?" Stark asks Banner, pushing another glass of lemonade towards him.

Banner grins at him, wrapping his fingers loosely around the glass. "Truth, I think," he murmurs.

Stark pouts at him for a moment, but Banner just raises a brow. Stark makes a show of coming up with a question, and finally asks, "Do you like red or purple more?"

Banner blinks at him, then glances around at the rest of them, like he's verifying what he heard. "Purple," he answers, taking a sip of his lemonade. "Thor, truth or dare?"

"I shall do a dare," Thor announces, shoulders back and chest puffed up.

Stark perks up. "Ooh, pick me!" he begs Banner. "I know what to make him do!"

Banner ignores him, head tilted, studying Thor. He looks over at Stark for a long moment, considering something, and then he says, "I dare you to create and use a facebook account."

"What is this facebook account?" Thor asks while Stark facepalms.

"Don't worry," Natasha says. "Stark'll be glad to help."

The game pauses while Stark grabs one of his StarkPads and gives Thor a crash-course on the internet and social networking. Thor picks it up surprisingly quickly – or not, Clint realizes, remembering who the guy's brother is.

Rogers watches avidly. Clint figures he'll have one of his own soon enough.

"Now I choose someone for a truth or dare?" Thor asks. Banner nods and Thor beams at Rogers. "Captain! Truth or dare?"

Rogers smiles and firmly says, "Truth."

Stark scoffs and mutters, "No one's playing right."

"Tell us about the first time you lay with a woman!" Thor says.

"… never mind," Stark corrects himself.

Rogers opens his mouth, closes it, hesitates, then admits, "I've never been with a woman." He holds his head high, braced for something – Stark's reaction, Clint figures, glancing over.

And, yep, he has an unholy grin on his face, but before he says anything, Banner nudges him, shaking his head.

Stark pouts again, but says, "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we, Cap? Your turn."

Rogers glances at Natasha, then Clint. "Agent Ro-_Natasha_," he says, "truth or dare?"

"Dare," she replies, with a raised eyebrow.

Rogers thinks for a few moments, eyes on Natasha's face, before saying, "I dare you to show us the most successful move you have."

Natasha raises her other eyebrow, giving Clint a quick look. He nods.

Rogers probably has no idea what he just asked, but Stark does, if his delighted expression is anything to by.

Clint doesn't move as Natasha stands, slinks over to him, slides into his lap, and straddles him. Rogers is probably blushing, but Clint keeps his gaze on Natasha. She's smirking, of course, even as she leans in to nip at his lips. She's still the best e ever had. (He wonders what Phil – Coulson – would have tasted like, had he ever worked up the guts to make a move.)

Clint checks back in as Natasha rolls off him. None of their 'team' say anything as she goes back to her chair and sprawls all over it.

"Clint," she says. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's the trickiest shot you've ever made?"

She's going easy on him. He must be more out of it than he thought. Or she's honestly curious. Most likely, some combination of the two. He takes the time to consider all the shots he's made in the past year. Then he goes back further, all the way to the circus, before disregarding them all.

He focuses on Natasha and answers, "I once used a piece of tape and a toothpick to set off a fire-alarm fifty-three feet away. I was eight."

It's not a lie. There's more to the story, of course, but everyone looks so impressed, he doesn't want to spoil it.

He turns to Stark, knowing Stark'll pick dare, and he doesn't feel like coming up with something both clever and embarrassing. He's tired.

"Stark, truth or dare?"

"Dare," Stark says challengingly. It almost makes Clint want to meet the challenge.

Almost. "I dare you to strip and give Nat a lap dance."

Stark actually freezes for a moment, panic on his face, before he smoothes it away and leers at Natasha.

She sits there stoically while they all know she could kill them, and Stark strips and gives the worst lap dance Clint has ever seen.

He does smile, though. It's actually real, and he knows that'll take some of the bite out of her revenge.

The game ends after Stark pulls his clothes back on. Stark and Banner head upstairs to their rooms (singular? shared? Clint isn't sure yet), and Thor just heads back to the kitchen for more food. He must be staying at Stark's tower, then. Rogers accompanies them downstairs before waving and walking away. He has an apartment somewhere, Clint knows. (Phil had known the address and coordinates, Clint bets. No – _Coulson_ had known. He was never Phil, not to Clint. Clint hadn't earned it.)

"Wanna go back?" Natasha asks.

"No," he says.

She nods and tucks herself under his arm so they can wander invisibly, just another couple out for a twilight stroll, as the city heals.

Another mask, another lie, in a lifetime full of them. A team of the greatest people in the world, and Clint Barton on it. With geniuses and science experiments and a monster and a god and a self-destructing drunk and Tasha.

What could possibly go wrong?

(He should tell someone about the dreams, and the voice, and the promises.)

Nat giggles, and he presses a kiss to her hair, and it's all an act, their walk through the city they helped save.

(In a few hours, Clint will be alone in a bed in a barren room on the floating fortress he nearly brought down. He'll be dreaming of a captive god giving him orders – and he'll wake up quietly, almost ready to obey.

He'll know he should tell someone.

He won't.)


	15. The stars will not get tired

Title: The stars will not get tired

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: takes place during the film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 120

Point of view: third

Prompt: sky

* * *

><p>The stars are different. They always are, of course – each realm varies. He has mapped them all, and walked them, and watched them while hunting parties formed cursing his name.<p>

He is trickery and lies, he is a silver-tongued devil, and he runs now from something so much worse –

"Sir," his little hawk-eyed warrior says. "Selvig hit a snag. He needs to talk to you."

Thanos' gift (weapon) is cool in his hands. Barton's eyes are cloudy, and his heart beats steadily, strong and sure.

The stars are different. Loki looks at them once more before turning to reenter the compound.

(He misses Asgard's sky. He will never admit how much it hurts to return and be unable to see it.)


	16. at least I'm flying free

Title: at least I'm flying free

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Wicked

Warnings: a smidge AUish for Natasha's backstory

Pairings: possibly implied Black Widow/Hawkeye, Winter Soldier/Black Widow

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 405

Point of view: third

Prompt: rush

* * *

><p>She owes him a debt. He doesn't think of it like that, she knows. They've saved each others' lives a dozen times over in the past five years.<p>

Besides that, she saved herself when she left the Red Room and burnt it behind her. She and James are the only survivors, and he is the first person she can ever remember showing her kindness.

(She still doesn't know how much of her memory was fabricated. But she wants this to be real, so she believes it is.)

Hawkeye was sent to kill her because she was too good and the Council believed it would be fruitless to try and turn her – who could ever trust the loyalty of the Black Widow? She'd betrayed her makers, after all, and abandoned her 'sisters' to their fates without a moment's hesitation or a single look back.

Hawkeye was sent to kill her, and he had a clear shot. He'd been shadowing her for almost a full day before she noticed. He could have killed her. He chose not to, a decision she still doesn't fully understand, and he thinks the debt between them was cleared when she went back for him the first time he became a liability. (Concussion grenade too close to his vantage spot. She could have left him there. She didn't.)

Five years and dozens of missions later, she tells the God of Lies, "Love is for children. I owe him a debt."

Loki's eyes see right through her; she doesn't allow herself the arrogance of thinking she's learned anything he didn't want her to know.

When she has the chance to grab Clint, to knock Loki out of his head – she doesn't fight to kill him. Not yet. Not until there's no other way.

The debt she owes isn't her life. That belongs to James, anyway. (And if she survives whatever Loki has planned, she'll bring James home – she remembers those glimmers she saw, and she chooses to believe they're real.)

The debt she owes Hawkeye is her freedom. And maybe saving him from Loki's control will erase the red. Maybe it won't.

She doesn't love Clint. Or James. Not even herself. Love is illusory and a trap. Love is for children; she was a never a child. Not that she remembers.

But she'll save Clint from Loki, and if she's gentle after he's down, well. She owes him.

And they're still not even yet.


	17. a lightning flash

Title: to have written the truth in a lightning flash

Fandom: Supernatural/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich

Warnings: pre-Thor – AU for Thor and everything that follows; AU during or after season 5 of Supernatural (or, possibly, before that)

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 2075

Point of view: third

Prompt: Supernatural/Thor (2011), Dean + pre-movie!Thor, "You should be protecting your brother, not dragging him into trouble."

* * *

><p>They're on Midgard, Thor and Sif and the Warriors 3 and Loki. They're on Midgard and Thor cannot believe how it has evolved since the last time - has it truly been long enough for the humans to change horses into metal beasts?<p>

Apparently so. No matter.

Hogun finds the trail of their quarry, and the hunt is rejoined.

.

The hunt goes badly. There is no physical body for Thor to fight; Mjölnir does not even slow the monster, and Loki is everywhere, trying spell after spell. Only Loki can even slow the beast, of shadow and spirit, and he finally gets in the death blow – and he goes down with it, hard, without any warning.

No matter how loudly, how _desperately_, Thor shouts to the sky, Heimdallr does not open the Bifrost.

.

Loki worsens. Volstagg and Hogun, almost evenly matched with regards to battle wounds, do what they can, but it is not enough. Thor screams threats to the heavens, hefting Mjölnir, swearing vengeance, and Heimdallr does not respond.

Sif finally vanishes into the woods, going after a Midgardian healer. Fandral follows, promising Thor to find the best.

Loki's eyes are closed, his breathing shallow, and he is far too cold. "I cannot find a wound," Hogun solemnly tells Thor. Volstagg shrugs and shakes his head.

Thor kneels beside his brother, dropping Mjölnir, and whispers, "Heimdallr, please. Bring us home. Loki is dying."

The way remains shut. Loki's breath catches and he whimpers, low and sharp, and he flickers, for a moment, before he turns into a miniature frost giant.

"What?" Thor roars, lunging to his feet. "What sorcery is this – what curse?" He grabs Mjölnir, needing the reassurance of his hammer in his hand.

Hogun and Volstagg exchange glances. Loki – is it Loki? – still doesn't move.

.

Thor has progressed to pacing around Loki's prone form, Hogun and Volstagg still beside him, when Sif and Fandral return with two mortals. Both mortals seem young (of course) and carry weapons. The shorter looks over to the other, raising an eyebrow, and the other nods.

"So, y'all found the revenant?" the shorter asks, keeping his weapon in easy access.

"Is that what it's called?" Volstagg says, looking down at Loki. "It turned him – blue. And he hasn't moved."

The shorter man's other eyebrow raises as he follows Volstagg's gaze. "That's not normally what it does," he says. "Sammy, any ideas?"

Sammy's forehead wrinkles. He says, "That's… odd," tilting his head. He glances from Sif and Fandral, who have positioned themselves so that one blow cannot take them and the others, to Thor, then down to Loki, Volstagg, and Hogun, who is now standing, and also away from the rest. Then he looks back to Thor. "Can I get closer?" he asks. "I need to look him over. Revenants don't usually do this."

Thor looks from Loki to Sammy, and nods, shifting his grip on Mjölnir. Sammy's companion pins him in place with a warning look, his own grip on his weapon shifting. But Thor holds his peace as Sammy crouches down, setting his weapon on the ground next to him.

"Dean," he calls, "do you have any reception?"

Without looking away from Thor, Dean slowly reaches into his jacket. Thor can see Sif preparing herself, but Dean simply pulls out a small box and flips it open. "Nope," he says, popping the P sound. "Surprise, surprise."

Thor turns to watch Sammy, who has undone Loki's shirt and is touching his chest. "You dare!" he shouts, hefting Mjölnir.

"Hey!" Dean shouts in return, and his weapon roars, and something throws Thor back.

Sif, Fandral, and Hogun should all be on Dean for that, but none of them move. Once Thor regains his feet, he demands, "What sorcery are you wielding?"

Dean smirks. "My brother's helpin' your blue friend," he says. "Be grateful and let him."

"That blue beast was my brother," Thor says after a moment, and another glance at his friends, who all look panicked about the eyes and can't seem to move. Not even Loki, at his most angry, could hold them all at the same time. One of the humans is a truly powerful sorcerer. "The monster did something – "

"No, actually, it didn't," Sammy interrupts him. "Or, well, not exactly."

Volstagg clears his throat. "Could you perhaps explain that?"

"Yeah," Sammy mutters, not looking at him. "Give me a moment." Sammy's eyes seem to be white, for just a moment, like the snow-covered ground of Jötunheimr, and unlike any sorcerer Thor has ever encountered.

"Huh," Sammy finally says, settling back on his haunches. "Dean, can you call Castiel? I need him to check something for me."

Thor glances over in time to see Dean roll his eyes. "The two'a ya really should work out your differences," he mutters, before lifting his head and addressing the sky. "Hey, Cas! We could use your expertise for a sec. Could you pop over, please?"

Suddenly, there is something else in the forest with them. It appears to be a mid-sized human male, pale skinned, dark hair, blue eyes, but that is _wrong_. It is so much bigger than that, older and powerful, and Thor wants to cower back, for one humiliating instant he truly does, and instead he throws himself between his brother and the monster, and the monster _smiles_.

"Do not be afraid, Thor, Son of Odin," the monster says gently. "I am not here for you."

Thor shudders.

"Come look at this," Sammy calls, and the monster – Castiel? – walks over silently, kneeling down next to Sammy. He pushes the weapon away, and Volstagg shrinks back.

Thor and his friends have withstood monsters in five realms; these Midgardians cannot be mortals. Sammy is too powerful a sorcerer, and Dean commands – whatever the beast is.

"It looks like the revenant tore through something," Sammy says. "It's still draining him. If I sever it, he might die. Do you – "

"I see," Castiel murmurs. He reaches out and Thor cannot help his instinctive move. He also doesn't see Dean dart forward, but he feels Dean's strong, unyielding grip on the arm holding Mjölnir.

"Hey," Dean says. "I get that he's your brother. Little, right? Don't worry. We're really not here to hurt you. We actually owe the little guy."

Thor considers his words very carefully, taking his time to gather his thoughts. Whoever, _whatever_, these beings are, they clearly have the upper hand. "I thank you for whatever assistance you can give," he says. "I am Thor, Prince of Asgard. We hunted a beast – I know not if it is the thing that cursed my brother."

"Your brother is not cursed," Castiel tells him; Thor turns to see Castiel with fingers spread across Loki's face. "The revenant ripped a glamour from him, one he has worn for a thousand years." Light, brilliant and pure, flares beneath his palm and into Loki, pulsing from the top of his head to his feet, and Loki's body arches up, eyes flying open as he _screams_.

Thor cannot do nothing, not while Loki is in such pain. He wrenches away from Dean and lunges for Castiel – but before he can grab the creature, something pulls him back, and to his knees, and holds him there. Thor struggles with everything he has; he summons Mjölnir, but Mjölnir does not answer, and Loki screams and screams –

And falls silent, again unmoving on the dirt. Still blue.

Volstagg is pale and shaking, but he reaches out to touch Loki's hand. "He warms," Volstagg whispers, something between awe and fear in his voice.

Castiel stands and turns to look down at Thor. "He is your brother, Son of Odin, Prince of Asgard," the creature says. "There was a powerful glamour on him, but not of his making. He will be fine, but his magic will be slow in returning."

"Why… why is he blue?" Thor asks, eyes darting between Castiel and his brother, so still, so silent.

"You should ask your father," Castiel says, in that same gentle tone from when he first appeared. "But it is not Loki's fault." Castiel reaches out, and though Thor tries to dodge, tries with every muscle in his body, Castiel's hand alights softly on Thor's brow. "Be calm, young prince," Castiel murmurs. "All is well."

Something pulses through Thor, something cold and bright, and then –

Then he is in Father's throne room, with his friends and his brother – still blue – and Father is gaping at them. "What is this?" he demands, standing, Gungnir in hand.

"We found 'em," Dean says, sounding so flippant, so daring. "You should tell your kids to be more aware of what they hunt – and whose sacred places they follow it to." He pauses, and Thor can hardly dare to look at him, still on his knees, but Dean is smirking, such an insouciant smirk, and he adds, "You should also explain why one of 'em is blue."

Thor cannot look up, cannot meet his father's eyes. Cannot glance over, cannot check on his friends.

But he can look at Loki, who is finally – oh, finally, at long last – beginning to stir. Volstagg staggers to his feet before bowing, stumbling to the Warriors and Sif, still frozen by Dean, or Sammy, or Castiel. And Sammy places a hand on Loki's chest, leans over to murmur, and Loki ceases all movement, registering that an unknown threat is present.

And, according to Castiel, Loki's magic is gone. Will it come back?

"Hello, Odin," Castiel says. "Your children and their companions are returned to you."

"I thank you," Father replies, after a long pause.

"Oh, don't be too grateful," Dean says, still smirking, but it's sharp now. Like Loki's, when someone has gone a step too far, unaware that offense has been caused. Thor has come to know that smirk well, and regrets each time it appears.

"All-Father," Sammy says as he stands, and he's so large for a Midgardian. He might even be taller than Thor.

Thor glances up, watches in horror and wonder as Father actually lowers his head to the strange Midgardians.

Sammy's eyes are white again. A quick glance at Dean reveals his are yellow, for a moment, before he blinks and they're hazel.

Castiel steps away from Thor, going to Dean's side. Sammy joins them on Dean's other side. "We'll be heading out now," Dean says. "But you." He points at Thor. "You, take better care of that kid, y'hear? He's a good kid." He glances over at Loki, and Thor wants to look, make sure Loki's better, healing, but Dean meets his eyes again. "Watch his back, Thor. He's your little brother. He's yours to protect."

Thor nods. "I swear that I will not squander the gift you have given me," he says.

Dean smiles, and the three of them are gone.

"Thor?" Loki whispers, and Thor is at his side in a moment, checking him for any hurt, any wound, anything at all. He doesn't even care Loki is blue. "What happened?" Loki asks, eyes on Thor's face.

"You saved us," Thor tells him. "And when you – you fell, Loki, you fell and something was wrong, something was stealing your strength, and, I don't know who or what they were, but-"

"Thor," Father's voice rings out. "I must speak to your brother. You and your friends are dismissed."

Loki's fingers clench in Thor's sleeve. Thor can see both their breaths. _Oh, Loki_, he realizes. _My brother._A jötunn.

_He's your little brother. He's yours to protect._

"No, Father," Thor says without looking away from his brother. "My friends will depart – but I am where I need to be."

Father growls. Thor does not care.

Loki nearly died tonight. And if Father is about to reveal such a terrible secret – well. Loki must know Thor still loves him.

He can almost hear that strange Midgardian say, _Good boy_, but Loki has just realized his hands are blue, and Thor can see the panic rising. A panicked Loki is never good for anyone.

"Loki," Thor says, ignoring the Warriors 3 and Sif as they leave. "Loki, look at me."

Loki's eyes are red, his skin almost too cold to touch and the same blue as Castiel's fathomless gaze. "Thor," he says, "What – "

"Loki," Thor says again. "You are my brother. I am yours. What matters but that?"

Loki's eyes are red, but he is still _Loki_. And what matters but that?


	18. a billion times told lovelier

Title: a billion times told lovelier, more dangerous

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Hopkins

Warnings: AUish; post-film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 275

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers movieverse, any, _there are wrongs for every right_

* * *

><p>Before he worked for SHIELD, he was independent and only the highest bidder could afford him. He knows exactly what his coworkers and his teammates think - <em>Clint Barton, oh, he was in the army, wasn't he? Black-ops or something. Good with a weapon, and a smartass. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, though<em>

Every operative sent after Black Widow either vanished or came back in pieces. Every operative but one. That seems to have escaped a lot of people.

Clint Barton _was _in the army, and he did do black-ops or something. But he got out of that quickly enough and made a bit of a name for himself, and it's best for everyone, really, that nobody connects that name to Hawkeye of SHIELD. Hawkeye of the Avengers. Hawkeye, savior of the world, after he got over that whole 'working for the enemy' thing.

_I see you_, Loki whispers in his dreams, in the months after. _I know you. We are so alike, my warrior. So very alike_.

SHIELD pays pretty well. They have to, for all the people who aren't being blackmailed into staying.

But. They don't pay as well as when he was an independent contractor, and he's really tired of being blackmailed.

And when Loki isn't trying to subjugate the world or open portals to doom-monsters… he's actually a pretty good boss, with a kickass sense of humor.

Clint thinks about asking Natasha to come with him. Except Black Widow is trying to atone, and Clint doesn't have anything he needs to atone for.

So when Loki whispers, _I see you, my warrior_, Clint replies, _Well, yeah, boss. I'm waiting for you._


	19. There was no one near or far

Title: There was no one near or far to keep the world from being mine

Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sara Teasdale

Warnings: future!fic for Avengers and Highlander

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 690

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, white horses in the night

* * *

><p>"Come, little god," the stranger says, from atop the back of a tall horse.<p>

"Who are you, that I should let you take me?" Loki demands, trying to stifle his gasps. The All-Father had made it truly difficult to escape his cage, but escaped it Loki had. For the moment.

And now he is back on Midgard, the last place anyone would expect him to run.

"I know what hunts you," the stranger says, one hand holding the reins, the other petting the horse's neck. She dances in place, ears flicking between listening to the stranger and out at what might be coming. "And I know how to kill it."

Loki's mouth falls open. "That… what?" he asks, getting his feet under him and staggering up, trying to disguise how hard it is to stay there.

The stranger tilts his head, giving Loki an unimpressed look. "Pride goeth, little god," he quotes from somewhere. It makes no sense to Loki, but he will only be on Midgard until his strength is fully returned, and then he's going to find a hole somewhere else, somewhere far away, and wait until – after.

Another horse steps out of the darkness. "Come, little god," the stranger repeats. "You're a masterful manipulator, I'll grant you that, but you need better allies, and actual friends, before you can get anywhere worth your talent."

"I…" Loki is at a loss. He'd expected that anyone who recognized him would attempt capture or execution. But offering aid? No. Surely a trap.

Loki will _never _be trapped again.

"I thank you for your kindness," he grits out, pain stealing his renowned silver tongue, "but, please, take your leave."

"Yeah, no," the stranger says. "I know you for what you are, and I know what hunts you." His smile seems kind, and his eyes as all-seeing as Heimdallr's, but Loki will not be tricked, Loki will not be caught, he will _survive_ and _endure_, and he will _not_-

"Oh, child," the stranger whispers, dismounting and catching Loki as he collapses.

_I know what you are_, Loki hears, distantly, echoing around him, in him, through him. _You are mine_.

_Who are you? _Loki asks, all the fight gone out of him. In the stranger's embrace, he is warm. Sheltered. Maybe Frigga had held him like this, once, but it is long enough ago to be a faded dream.

The stranger laughs. "Your kind once called me Hel, ages and ages hence. I go by Ben now."

Hel. Goddess of those who died away from battle – goddess of the old and the young, of the cowards or accidents. Hel, a legend even to the aesir. And, apparently, not a goddess at all.

_What will you do with me? _he mutters, sleep coming the easiest it has in decades.

_I need a student_, Ben says, standing, cradling Loki in his arms. Loki feels small, and young, and so much relief it floods him. _You need a teacher, little chaos-maker._

And they are on the horse, though Loki knows not how. The horse, a magnificent creature, pale as Jötunheimr. They are on the mare, Loki with his back to Ben's chest, still bracketed by his arms.

"Rest," Ben murmurs into Loki's ear. "You've lived, Loki. Now you must grow stronger. And when what hunts you arrives… I will show you how to kill."

Loki surrenders to sleep. Either this is a perfectly woven trap – or Loki has been found by someone even more powerful than Odin, someone who (so far, at least) is on his side. And that…

Oh, that is something he so dearly wants.

_You are safe with me,_ Ben promises, as Loki's nightmare changes to nonsense about Thor and a dress and the days when things were good. _I take such good care of that which is mine._

And the little god of trickery and lies, he is such a find.

That which hunts the child seeks Death.

Ben clucks to his horse, and Loki's unused mount follows, and Ben's laugh echoes through the night, because it is Death the child's once-master will find.

He, however, will not be glad of it.


	20. the great body not torn apart

Title: the great body not torn apart, though raked and raked by our claws

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov

Warnings: set during and post-Avengers

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 454

Point of view: third

Prompt: Thor, Thor + or / Loki, Thor does not see the difference between his brother and his brother's glamour duplicates

Note: I misread the prompt as _Thor could always tell the difference_, so that's what I wrote.

* * *

><p><em>Are you ever <em>_**not**__ going to fall for that? _his brother asks, sneering, before turning away.

Thor watches him for a moment, trying to capture all his thoughts, and then he again entreats his brother, commands his brother, pleads - and Loki kills a good man, and Loki tosses Thor from the flying fortress, and as Thor falls, he can think only of how far Loki must have fallen.

And he breaks his way free from the cage that could only have contained Loki if Loki wanted to be contained, and he battles his brother, and he battles his brother's army, and he helps the Midgardians capture his brother, and he takes his brother home, and - only in private - he begs his father to have mercy on Loki, but Father speaks of justice and lessons never learned, and Thor wonders how far Loki fell.

_Why _Loki fell so far.

_Are you ever __**not**__ going to fall for that? _Loki asked. But he is silent, now, eyes and lips closed, alone, always alone.

Justice, the All-Father calls it. Loki did wrong, and so Loki must be punished. Like always.

Loki's magic is locked away, and he sits silently in a cell, eyes closed, and he fell, he must've fallen so far, and no one in Asgard, no one in Midgard, no one in any world will speak for him, his silver tongue tied, and the longer Thor watches him, the higher his anger grows, a storm building outside, thunder and lightning and a roaring wind –

And Loki lifts his head, eyes opening, and Thor can see the smirk there.

_Are you ever __**not**__ going to fall for that? _Loki had asked.

Thor has never, not once, told Loki that he can always pinpoint his brother, even when surrounded by the illusions. Thor has never, not once, treated any of them differently than he does his brother.

But this copy, so flawlessly done, so magnificently real –

_Oh, well done, brother, _he murmurs.

He stays outside the cell until his father sends a messenger, calling him to dinner. As the sun sets, the sky is clear; the storm left as quickly as it came.

Thor smiles at his mother, discusses policy with his father, spars with his friends.

Perhaps he should tell Odin the truth. Perhaps he should be angry with himself, to have been fooled for all these days of pain and despair. Perhaps he should warn Loki's many enemies, or prepare himself for whatever move Loki has planned next.

He goes to bed and wishes only that Loki is safe, that Loki is happy, glad – in his heart of hearts, where a bright-eyed little boy shows off magic tricks – that Loki is free.


	21. Let my eyes see the sun

Title: Let my eyes see the sun until they are dazzled with looking

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky, maybe

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 230

Point of view: third

Prompt: fallen

* * *

><p>Natasha is the one to bring him in. He's still someone else, someone Steve has never met, and Fury orders Steve to stay away.<p>

Steve ignores that order, of course, but the infirmary is empty.

Tony helps him drink a bar; Clint and Thor cycle through, and Bruce sits with him in silence while Tony snores.

But then Natasha is in the door, an actual smile on her face. It's been three days since Fury forbade him from seeing –

"C'mon, Cap," Natasha says. "I've got someone you should meet."

His stomach is roiling. "Are you sure?" he asks, and doesn't even know what he means.

_He's alive? He's alright? He's mine?_

"Yes," she says, sounding the gentlest he's ever heard her.

Bruce, Clint, Thor, and Tony all hang back when Steve follows Natasha into the room.

Bucky's asleep on the bed, looking the same as the day he fell. He's got a metal arm, but his eyes open and he looks at Steve and he smiles, he _smiles, _and Steve can breathe the freest breath since he woke up in the future.

Bucky's alive. Steve stumbles forward, grasping for his hand, and Bucky clutches back at him, still smiling.

"Hey, Stevie," he murmurs, voice hoarse and soft. "We got some catchin' up to do, I hear."

"Yeah," Steve whispers, voice thick with years worth of grief and relief. "Yeah, Buck, we do."


	22. we held on to each other

Title: we held on to each other, like brother to brother

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Billy Joel

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 260<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: far

* * *

><p>Thor does not know what happened to his brother. Where things went so terribly wrong.<p>

But not irrevocably wrong. Thor refuses to believe he and his brother will never be reconciled.

Mjölnir is growing heavier by the day, and Loki no longer responds to Thor's presence, and Father does not listen to Thor's counsel. Mother hasn't shared Father's bedchamber since Thor brought Loki home.

Nothing is as it should be. Nothing has been right since Loki's last words before the muzzle - _If your father knew where I was/i, he'd hissed, eyes bright and poisonous, ithen why didn't he save me?_

It's all Thor can think about these days. Wherever he goes, he replays everything since Loki's fall. And the days before it. And their years as children, as brothers and playmates, as allies and rivals.

_If your father knew where I was, then why didn't he save me?_

Thor is not a wordsmith. He is not as clever as Loki; few are. But he has never believed himself to be a fool.

Why would Loki use the word _save_? Why was Loki so tired, so wearied, so easy to capture and keep?

Father's chains have been sapping his magic since Thor brought him back.

_Why didn't he save me?_

Thor watches Loki, tucked into the farthest corner of his cell, and thinks, _You don't need to be saved from allies._

He unlocks the cage and strides in, Mjölnir lightening with every step.

Something is terribly wrong, but Thor has never felt righter, as he finally chooses his brother.


	23. I will let the dark winds take me

Title: I will let the dark winds take me. And I don't care where I land

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Grace Bauer.

Warnings: future!fic; brainwashing

Pairings: Loki/Clint, mentions of Coulson/Clint

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 1780

Notes: thanks to fictionalfemme, kellifer_fic, mynorthwind, and faithunbreakable for all talking with me about this fic. Also, there may be more coming in this 'verse, because there are a few scenes I want to write, but I make no promises.

More notes: This was the very first fic I started after seeing the movie.

* * *

><p>It's three years later when Loki calls, <em>Come to me, Clint<em>. Mid-battle against Loki's newest ally (how is it none of their villains-of-the-week have realized Loki always gets away while they die or get taken down?), two years after his return from whatever failure of a prison the Asgardians put him in, and he finally reaches out for the tiny spark of loyalty and adoration left in the tattered remnants of Clint's heart.

_Come to me, Clint_, his voice whispers, and Clint leaves his nest, dropping the com from his ear without a word of goodbye or warning to his team.

By the time they realize something's gone wrong, he's completely in the wind, standing at attention, waiting for Loki's command.

.

_You killed him_, is what Clint thinks, watching Loki watch him.

Loki's smile is cold, and gentle, and sad, and so angry, and Clint knows that even if he studied Loki for a hundred years, he would never understand his master. His god.

"Are you mine?" Loki asks, one hand cupping Clint's cheek.

"Yes, sir," Clint says. He can't say anything else. Doesn't want to.

"Will you do everything I ask of you?" Loki murmurs, leaning in close, bringing his other hand up to rest over Clint's heart.

"Of course, sir," Clint answers.

_You stabbed Phil and he died_, Clint thinks, and Loki pats his face.

"Good boy," Loki says. "Come now, little hawk," he adds as he turns. "We have things to do."

The part of Clint that still loves Phil shouts and struggles. The part that is Loki's follows his god into the dark.

By the second step, the first part has totally faded, and none of the him that is left even thinks to mourn.

.

Phil has been dead for three years. He was the reason they finally started working as a team, Rogers and Stark putting aside their differences for the battle that saved the world.

Clint didn't even know he was dead till after the dust settled.

He lied about watching himself obey Loki. After the first burst of fire though his veins, hollowing him out, there was nothing but loyalty. He didn't question a thing. He remembered everything from before, SHIELD and Tasha and Phil. He just didn't care. There was nothing.

There was no part of him that was not Loki's, and after Tasha knocked him free, he knew that Loki's good little soldier was still somewhere in him. Could still feel the clarity and _joy_ being Loki's brought him.

He never talked to Selvig about it. Or any of the others, those few who weren't bought with promises of sitting beside Loki in the new world or the money Loki magicked out of thin air. He read the files, though. Read the files and wondered if they'd been lying to the shrinks, too.

.

"Do you think me a monster?" Loki asks quietly, staring out a window on the eighty-third floor.

"No, sir," Clint replies, arms crossed, leaning against the wall and watching Loki. "I think you're misunderstood."

Loki laughs, short and sharp and so bitter it burns. "Misunderstood," he repeats. "Misjudged, mistreated."

_Miss-no-way-it's-all-good_, Clint sings in his head, because Phil'd had a love for Pink that rivaled his crush on Captain America.

Loki turns to glance at Clint, tilting his head. "Sing the entire song," he commands, so Clint does.

Afterwards, Loki somehow magicks up Pink's complete musical collection, and even through his total devotion to Loki, a part of Clint bleeds at every song.

.

The Avengers seek him, of course. SHIELD searches for their agent and the enemy that stole him.

Hawkeye had been cleared, following the battle in Manhattan. Three years of loyal, unquestioning service, bleeding for the team.

Selvig had explained, as best he could, what Loki's control had been like. The others had all said roughly the same thing. Impossible to fight. Impossible to _want_ to fight. But a good knock to the head and the problem was cleared right up.

According to the files Clint broke into, none of the rest remembered the time fondly. Clint made sure no one knew he did.

Natasha hadn't mentioned, to anyone, how good a liar Clint Barton actually was, when he wanted to be.

Phil had known.

.

"If you had but asked me," Loki mentions three days after he reclaimed Clint, "I might have spared your lover. He was courageous." Loki's lips twist in a tiny smile. "He had heart."

Clint hadn't even thought to ask, the first time Loki had him. A distant part of him is glad Phil never saw this, how he bent and broke himself open for Loki, how he spread wide and gave Loki everything.

.

Whatever game Loki's playing now, it seems to be intended purely to drive Clint insane. They're in a highrise in Manhattan; every time Clint looks out the windows facing west, he sees the Avengers tower. Loki hasn't left since they arrived. He's given Clint freerun of the place, but Clint hasn't even tried to get out. He doesn't _want_ to get out. Loki is his master, his god, his reason.

Loki talks to him. Asks about books, movies, TV. Poetry and music. His thoughts on history, philosophy, architecture. Clint's not stupid, and there were a few books he read for fun, after he mostly taught himself. But his whole life, he's been an act or a weapon. Nothing more. Give him a direction and let him loose.

Except with Phil. But he never had enough time with Phil to really just _be_. To sit on the couch and argue about watching Supernanny or Top Shot and complain about what the 'experts' were doing wrong.

"What's the plan, sir?" he asks on the one-week mark. One week in this building, close enough to see the _windows_ at home, to know he could get there in under two minutes – one week of doing nothing but talking with the alien demigod who killed Phil.

One week of caring about nothing except making sure Loki was happy and content and safe.

"Need to know, Clint," Loki says. "You don't yet need to know."

.

Two weeks, three, four.

_Look into the mirror, little hawk_, Loki whispers in his mind, forehead resting on Clint's back.

Clint raises his head, gazing at his reflection – his eyes are completely normal. Not clouded at all.

_You are mine_, Loki says, arms wrapping around him. _Mine to have, mine to keep. I take such good care of that which is mine_.

"Yes, sir," Clint replies aloud.

His master murmurs against his skin, "Call me Loki."

.

They leave Manhattan, North America. They hunt; Loki gives him a new face, a list of names and locations, and lets him off the leash.

Hawkeye is a weapon, after all. A predator. He was long before SHIELD had him.

"I have others to see," Loki tells him, leaving with a kiss to his forehead and a gentle caress. "I'll fetch you in five days."

"Yes, Loki," Clint says.

He looks into the first mirror he finds: black hair, green eyes, tan skin. Taller than he's ever been, whipcord thin. He blinks and sees himself, eyes still clear blue, before the illusion is firmly back in place.

Five days and over a hundred men to kill, in eighteen cities and four countries.

He does it in three and spends the rest asleep, dreaming of Phil and Loki and a sky so blue it burns.

.

"Well done, my hawk," Loki says when he appears beside Clint, stretched out on the bed.

"It was my pleasure, Loki," Clint replies, rolling over to face him.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt," Loki murmurs, smiling.

.

They go back to New York, and Clint can see his team from the windows, and it feels like Loki is goddamned _wooing_ him, which is crazy, because Clint is already Loki's in every way that matters, in mind, body, and soul, in word and deed, deep down in his heart.

Any one of their names could've been on that list Loki gave him, and he'd have put bullets in all their brains. He wouldn't hesitate. Even now – he can imagine it, staring down the scope, finger on the trigger.

He would kill them and go back to Loki, neck bared, underbelly showing, and wait for the next order

"You are my spear," Loki muses, watching Clint sort through his arrows. "An extension of myself."

A tiny part of Clint, deep down, asks, _What are you going to have me do?_

The rest of him says, "Always."

.

He knows what they'd tell him. What they have told him. After, when everyone was searching for a reason and Phil was dead. It hadn't been his fault, they promised, the shrinks and his team and Tasha. It was all Loki. Loki in his mind, Loki aiming him like a weapon. But he was still in there, they all said, because Hawkeye doesn't miss.

He hadn't been ordered to kill, is the thing. He was making noise and taking down the helicarrier, but Loki didn't want them dead yet.

No one he cared about would've died, if he'd only asked Loki for Phil's life. But he didn't ask, and that's on him. He doesn't hold Loki accountable for that.

Anyway. He knows what they'd say, if he walked out the front door and the two minutes to the Avengers' tower. They'd repeat what they already said, three years ago.

They'd tell him it's all based on a lie. His affection, his _adoration_ of Loki. He was burnt up and hollowed out, Loki rewiring him, remaking him into a warrior for Loki's desire and delight.

He knows that. That's how it started.

But his eyes aren't clouded blue anymore. Maybe he was rewired, but he knows – _knows_ like he knows the feel of his bow, and the way an arrow sings, and how he once knew all the secrets of Phil's voice and body – being hit in the head won't fix it, not this time.

He knows there's nothing to fix. He's Loki's, from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet to the marrow in his bones.

He's Loki's. And there's no coming back from that.

Not this time.

.

He dreams of Phil, and Loki, and a sky so blue it burns. Then he wakes up, presses himself against Loki, and opens up wide, ready and willing, and knows he's right where he needs to be.


	24. You owe your lives to sly Loki

Title: You owe your lives to sly Loki

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 365

Point of view: third

Prompt:

_But when that storm god you all praise  
>Walks the earth and shatters trees<br>You huddle close beside my gift  
>And whisper prayers beside the spit<br>And as the woodsmoke turns and twists  
>You owe your lives to sly Loki.<em>  
>(Mikael Hrafspa, <strong>"Loki's Song"<strong>( ))

Anything with this, because it's a lovely song and I hadn't heard it in years and having it come up on the music shuffle makes me want fic with it. Dear anon, please make it happen. Bitterness and angst are a definite plus.

* * *

><p>Thor is open war and honor, armies meeting face to face across the battlefield and marching into each other's spears, each other's swords, dying by the thousands. Thor is Asgard, a thousand years of golden peace because no one else is powerful enough.<p>

But Loki… Loki is shadows and twists, Loki is guerilla warfare, Loki is patience and cunning and the perfect strike.

Thor is a good friend, brave and true. He is _honorable _and righteous and will do battle until he falls. Thor does not surrender, not since he lost Loki's silver tongue.

But Loki… Loki surrenders. Loki falls to his knees and lets himself be thought beaten, and is locked away until the time is right.

Thor can lie by omission, but would much rather be forthright. Thor will not back down. He will shake worlds with the force of his anger, because he is Asgard and he will be king.

But Loki, sly Loki, he knows the power in bending the truth, in prevaricating, in a smiling lie.

And Thor, dear Thor, he enjoys the company of his new companions, the Avengers, the warriors who valiantly fought his brother's army. But, with the exception of Banner's beast and Captain America, they are not _his _kind of warriors. Even Iron Man prefers sly warfare – the warfare of Loki Liesmith.

Thor is unsure of how to explain without insult, so he holds his tongue, hating the feel of the lie.

(And Loki, sly Loki of the silver tongue, he is waiting. He is not beaten. And thunder rumbles, and worlds shake, and an archer dreams of shadows, and a spider analyzes weaknesses, and a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist researches.

Because Loki is not open warfare. Loki is not honorable. Loki survives, no matter the cost, and like calls to like, and when the time comes…

Oh, when the time comes. Those who are Loki's do not die by the thousands. They strike only where needed, and regimes fall, and no one ever knows.

Imprisoned for the moment, Loki plans.)

Thor meets his enemies head-on, and it will kill him one day.

Loki stabs his enemies in the back, and he will be victorious.


	25. even old New York was once New Amsterdam

Title: even old New York was once New Amsterdam

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers for the movie and Norse mythology

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 775

Point of view: third

Prompt: what Loki gets up to in his spare time

* * *

><p>At first, he visits the library purely out of curiosity. He knows what the internet says about his fa – the royal family of Asgard. But Tony Stark rules the cyberworld and Loki is not quite ready for anyone to realize he has both escaped the All-Father's cage and returned to Midgard.<p>

So he wanders into a mortal library in the mortal town of Houma. It seems different from the cities he visited with his army. The library facility itself is impressive – he thinks the 'main' library will have more resources for his quest.

He's wearing the guise of a 'teenager' with blond curls and bright green eyes (not quite his shade), and shyly enlists the help of a librarian. Soon enough, he has a stack of reference materials and a table all to himself. He picks up the first, an encyclopedia of Norse mythology, and pages through it.

Loki is thankful for the quick look he took at Wikipedia. He'd have been unable to contain his laughter otherwise.

Honestly – if he had any of those children, his true parentage would have come out much sooner. Not to mention, Hel is much older than Odin. Than Asgard, even. And Jörmungandr… the World Serpent had always been, curled around Yggdrasil, entwined in the branches. They are as old as magick itself, and fascinating to listen to (not that Thor ever believed him).

And his fa – Odin's favorite horse! Now, that one, he really had to smother his cackle in his hands.

The wall had long been built when Odin stole him from Jötunheimr. Loki likes horses well enough, but _honestly_. The things mortals believe.

Fenrir, though… he gently strokes the illustration of the giant wolf. Fenrir was real, had been a wolf pup he brought home after an adventure with Thor. But Ālfar wolves do not make good pets and Odin ordered the wolf sent back to Ālfheimr when Loki couldn't hide him anymore.

At the time, Loki was furious and hurt, and he threw many tantrums. His magic acted out his rage for weeks. Now, looking back, he is glad Odin didn't simply destroy Fenrir.

But Fenrir is long gone, and Loki learned the lesson well: Thor could have anything he wanted. Loki could have only what he took and successfully hid.

The legend of Nari and Váli, though – even after the story of the dwarves sewing his mouth shut, Loki is not prepared for such bloodlust. To think his fa – Odin could be so cruel, to punish the children for the father's sins…

He closes the book, tells the nice librarian there's been a family emergency, and hurries out. Once past the door, he travels to his 'hide-out' – a rather nice apartment in Paris, France – and curls up on his king-size bed, buries himself beneath the blankets.

He does not cry, of course. He left all his tears on the Bifrost. He did not cry for Thanos or his servants; he'll not cry over a few misguided mortals and what they think they know.

He'll never cry again.

.

A week later, Loki goes to the largest library in New York. He skillfully avoids seeing any of the damage Thanos' failed invasion caused. It may have been the worst mischief of his life (or not. How badly did his madness scar Jötunheimr? Could it have been worse than the destruction caused by Thor's arrogance? Every being in every realm would say _yes_, for Loki is no one's friend. He's not so sure.)

This time, Loki wears the guise of a young girl with dark skin and messy brown hair. Maybe Odin would know her, if they stood in front of each other. Maybe not. Loki's magic has swollen since she fell. She is no longer Odin's inferior in any way but blood, and it will take eons before she catches up to Odin's bodycount.

(And how _convenient_ that no one, including the All-Father, remembers his mother, a daughter of giants.)

Loki does not ask for a librarian's help this time. Instead she locates the book herself, seemingly the most popular regarding Norse mythology, and takes it to an empty corner, where she settles with it in her lap.

None of these books are right. So, starting with this one, she corrects it. She links them by subject matter – every book that mentions her name is changed to reflect the one in her hand.

Every single Norse mythology text in Midgard will be reflecting the truth, now. Everyone will see how the All-Father lies, how foolish Thor is, how Loki is _right_.

Loki smiles down at the book and puts it back on the shelf.


	26. one angel in another's hell

Title: one angel in another's hell

Fandom: Supernatural/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Shakespeare

Warnings: spoilers for Avengers; future!fic or Supernatural; possibly AUish for Clint's backstory; character death; mentions of violence and child abuse; mentions of substance abuse

Pairings: unrequited Clint/Coulson

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1005

Point of view: third

Prompt: Supernatural / Avengers Movie, Crowley & Hawkeye, "We both know that you will go to hell, when you are done up here."

* * *

><p>Clint's never made a deal. The fortuneteller back at Carson's, Helena, she warned him off it right before everything went sideways and ended with a month in the hospital he couldn't pay for and another home gone.<p>

Helena had smiled at him, taken his hands in hers, and said, in that creepyass voice he'd thought was fake, _Stay away from the crossroads, little hawk. You'll never find what you seek, if you take the deal._

He learned about crossroads later, after an op gone so wrong only he lived. And then he didn't, falling eyes wide open into the criminal underworld when he'd have been blamed for the whole FUBAR'd thing.

For a second, looking at the grinning old man, listening to the rattle of his bones and gasp of his breath, Clint thought about undoing the whole thing. Just a little deal and erase the whole mess. Get his men back. Fuck, go back even farther and get his brother back, or his parents. Get his dad out of the bottle, and Mama away from her pills. Have a real family.

But he remembered Helena, and instead of saying a thing, he watched the old man die.

And as the years passed, as he hit the big-time and got snapped up by SHIELD, as he brought in the Black Widow instead of putting an arrow through her eye, as he became a cloudy-eyed minion and mourned what he never had with Phil, as he dreamed of his ex-god – he never made a deal. Thought about it more than once, but never went to a crossroads and buried a box and waited for a demon, never sealed anything with a kiss or heard hounds howl.

He never forgot Helena's words.

But there's a demon standing in front of him, with a slick Brit accent and a smirk, and he says, "Come now, sweetheart – you know how it ends. Why put off the inevitable?"

Tasha talks about red in her ledger, and debts, and how cruel old men tried to make her into the perfect weapon. She's sure that if she does enough good it'll all balance out, somehow.

Clint knows better. Maybe the difference is, he doesn't really care about wiping the slate clean. He lost that drive in a bottle when he was a kid, in the pills always underfoot, in a beating when another father turned on him. He doesn't owe anyone a debt. He's owed.

He could've been a better man, like Phil. He could try and balance the scales, like Tasha and Stark and even Banner.

The best thing he can say? He's never made a deal. Never sold himself to Hell to fuck up the natural order. Things happen for a reason – Helena said that, too.

But now there's a demon, and the demon drawls, "You know, boyo. You've always known in your heart of hearts, haven't you?"

He's the only Avenger left standing, and he's standing at a crossroads.

Taught by a criminal, honed by Special Forces, wielded by SHIELD and a mad alien-god, trusted by the Earth's greatest…

They're all dead, Tasha and (Phil's) Captain America and Banner and Stark and Thor. Loki collapsed beside him, after appearing out of thin air and slaughtering the remaining fuckers, and didn't move until he was dragged away, silent but shaking.

They're all dead except for Clint, standing in front of a demon, moon high in the sky at midnight.

Helena would smack him across the face. She always got pissy when people didn't heed her advice.

"Well?" The demon claps his hands together and smirks wide. "Let's make a deal." He walks a circle around Clint, not even twitching the dust at their feet. "What do you want, and how long am I willing to give you for it?"

Clint looks at him. He's spent three years assessing his team, ten assessing SHIELD, and a lifetime assessing all the still-breathing corpses shuffling around and pretending to live. And in the fifteen hours since his team fell and Loki got buried so deep nobody could find him, Clint's been figuring out what went wrong.

He's not a good man. Maybe he had a chance, once, but he lost it, bleeding on the floor.

So he smiles at the demon, his brilliant, showman smile, the one little old ladies love and enemies underestimate, and he says, "Change one point in history and take me now."

"Hmm," the demon says, spinning on his heel to face Clint. "And which point might that be?"

Doors open both ways. Loki crawled into his heart and remade him, and Clint dreamed about a thousand-year childhood for six months. He didn't see everything, but he saw enough.

Clint's assessed it all. So he's sure when he tells the demon, "Have Loki be banished with Thor."

The demon chuckles. "Clever boy," he purrs, and pulls Clint in, and drags him all the way down.

Clint's not a good man. He was always going to Hell, and he's always known it. And he doesn't believe in evening the scale and settling balances, or repaying debts. He's been a weapon his whole life, and all that ever changes is who wields him.

He knows he won't remember himself long, whatever the demon has planned, but he figures there'll be some way to survive. There always is.

Just before the demon pulls away, he mutters into Clint's mouth, "We'll have fun with you, archer. You might even be a defter touch than the Righteous Man."

And then the world goes quiet, goes white-hot bright, and Clint's chest burns, and there's howling, so much howling –

And Clint inhales sharply, gaze flicking unerringly to the demon, who says, "My parlor, love. Be a dear and step in."

Clint laughs. "I've met the spider, bucko," he drawls, drawing even with the demon. "She's got a finesse you don't."

"Ah, give it time," the demon chuckles. "Now, c'mon. There's a rack I need to strap you to. See how long you last."

Clint follows him.


	27. I live in lonely desolation

Title: I live in lonely desolation and wonder when my end will come

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: a great deal of abstractness and imagery; past-mind control; thoughts of betrayal

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 655<p>

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>He dreams of falling, and flying, of wings broken and healed, of hawks and ravens and phoenixes burning bright enough to light the sky aflame.<p>

He dreams of death in a cage, and the door swinging open. Ice, a world full of it, and battle, always a hammer wielded by a god-prince, and falling, and flying, and wings, wings spread from one horizon to another, and - imy god, my god/i - falling, and flying, and waiting.

_my god._

Yes.

_My Hawk._

Blue as the sky. Black as a moonless, starless night. Wings and blood and fire, falling – phoenixes on the rise.

He dreams of days without question, without fear. Days when he knows his purpose, when he had reason. Days of utter freedom, when he had only to obey the will of his king, his master - _my god_.

He dreams of days he misses on awakening. He dreams of things he cannot tell his 'friends,' the team of heroes. Things he cannot tell the shrinks he's still ordered to see, nine months on. Things he tries to himself he doesn't believe, when the sun is high and his eyes open wide.

_my god._

Yes.

_My Hawk_.

He dreams of phoenixes and a sky on fire, of worlds dying and ancient ice thawing. He dreams of strong, sure fingers cupping the back of his head and a gentle, beloved voice murmuring, _My Hawk._

_my god._

Yes.

He fights beside Natasha and Tony and Bruce and Steve and Thor, whenever he's around. He watches movies and laughs at jokes and prepares favorite foods.

And when he sleeps, he dreams. When he sleeps, he falls and he flies, and wings stretch across the horizon, and the sky burns.

The sky burns and he bows, he rises, he stands a step behind his god, guarding his back and keeping him safe (_My Hawk_) and he will defend, he will protect, he will eradicate anyone who dares deny, who dares defy –

_my god_.

Yes, he says in his dreams. Yes, he gives in, he gives up, he surrenders and spreads wide, giving all he is and all he has.

_Yes, my god. Yes. All for you._

He wakes trembling with need, with want, and it takes longer each time to remember what's real and what's not.

But he knows what it means. Bone-deep, he knows.

He's in freefall. And when Loki comes – which they _all_ know he will – he'll fly away.

Clint watches his team. He watches SHIELD. He's been to every continent (even that godforsaken frozen wasteland) and most countries, and he's smarter than anyone he knows gives him credit for. He's no Tony Stark, but Tony Stark is no him, either.

He wonders, sometimes, if any of the rest of Loki's minions are dreaming of phoenixes, or if he's just that special.

_my god_.

Yes.

_My Hawk_.

He knows better than that. He's just that special, and he keeps his mouth shut even as his body shudders for his god, and he is so severely fucked. They all are.

What is it, a latent program? He's a sleeper agent, now, waiting for the trigger to go off and kill everyone for real?

No, because he's not sleeping. He's fully awake, and he still keeps silent.

Every time, he dreams of falling and flying and what must be his god's life. But why is Loki allowing it?

What could a primitive backwater rock like Earth offer to a god, except to break his brother's shiny new toy?

_My Hawk_.

He's in freefall, waiting for the phoenix's wings to spread from horizon to horizon. He doesn't need to know the endgame. He doesn't care about the endgame. He is a weapon, no matter who has him in hand.

Strong, sure fingers. A gentle, beloved voice. Ancient ice and a sky on fire.

Waiting.

_My Hawk_.

Yes.

_my god._

The answer was always going to be yes.


	28. kids from Brooklyn

Title: kids from Brooklyn

Disclaimer: not my characters; quotes from Captain America: The First Avenger

Warnings: (brief) character death; mention of scientific experimentation and brainwashing

Pairings: pre-Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 455

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers (movieverse), Steve/Bucky, We Were Soldiers

* * *

><p>Bucky went to war, aced the physical training, realized it wasn't just luck he had with guns but an inborn skill, got captured, expected to die, and then wound up on a table and being injected.<p>

Steve did everything backwards.

_I thought you were smaller._

Bucky tried to hide the way he looked at Steve, like he'd been hiding it since they were twelve and he realized that as pretty as girls were, as soft and as warm, it wasn't them he dreamed about. It was the middle of a war. They had a crusade. He couldn't get distracted, because that might get one of the team killed.

He tried to hide it, but the only one who didn't notice was Steve, and it was Dum Dum who was elected to tell him to quit being stupid and go for it because they could all die tomorrow.

_He damn well must've thought you were worth it._

Bucky died.

Winter Soldier woke up.

Steve died.

Captain America was pulled out of the ice and no one alive knew Steve.

_Don't win the war till I get there._

A year after the Battle of Manhattan, when the whole world learned about not being alone in the universe (and hopelessly, hilariously outclassed), a man with no name (going by John Smith) sauntered into the gym Steve Rogers frequented whenever he couldn't take the Tower and Tony's jokes anymore.

The name Steve Rogers meant nothing to him. Nor did Captain America. The national icon was nothing but a target, and those were something he knew how to deal with.

But Steve glanced up, met his eyes, and froze, mouth open.

And the man with no name, the assassin with the highest kill count on record (well, if such things were kept on record) recoiled, his eyes widening, too, in the greatest reaction he'd had to anything since he woke up, flinching from the cold scientists with cold hands.

"Bucky," Steve Rogers whispered.

_That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight... I'm following him._

Winter Soldier hit his knees, head in his hands, and lunged back from Steve's grip. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

"Bucky, Bucky, oh god, Bucky," Steve said, crouched next to him, and he had no idea who Bucky was, except now he was _keening _and everything hurt, and there was roaring his ears, adrenaline spiking –

Bucky fell. Bucky died.

Bucky opened his eyes in a gym in Manhattan in 2013 with a cybernetic arm, decades of memories that weren't his, and Steve crying in front of him.

_I'm just a kid from Brooklyn._

Bucky went to war and Steve followed him.

Captain America went to war and Winter Soldier covered his back.


	29. Sufficient to have stood

Title: Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: post-film; stream-of-consciousness rambling; kidnapping, violence, implications of torture

Pairings: Loki/Tony, possibly implied Loki/Clint, past Pepper/Tony

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1010

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers, Tony/Loki, how can being attracted to the God of Mischief be a bad thing? ; any, any/+any, trusting in their God

* * *

><p>See, the thing is, the thing Tony will never admit to anyone (until he does), is that if he made himself a god, just for him, perfect and broken, to fit in all his shattered places - it would be Loki. Loki, the cleverest person in nine realms (self-declared, but no one's arguing); Loki, angry and bitter and so damned powerful Tony can't help but believe him when he says that plan didn't fail, it went perfectly, because it got the invaders killed and him back in Asgard.<p>

Yeah. Tony's not an idiot. The opposite, actually. Not the cleverest person in nine realms, but Loki smirks at him, sometimes, whenever they foil him again (what, like you thought Asgard could hold him? Pfft. He had at least a thousand years of studying their methods). Loki smirks at him, and sometimes a sheet of paper explaining his latest trick shows up in Tony's workshop, and he should tell someone about that, he really should, Fury or Thor, or at least Bruce, the only person on Earth capable of actually slowing Loki down.

… he should tell someone. Pepper, maybe, wonderful Pepper, the only person to ever stick things out with him, until he fucked things up again and he doesn't blame her for backing off, being friend and CEO but not lover, never again.

(_I know what you're doing, _Clint tells him one afternoon, when he drops in to talk about arrows and explosions.

_I'm doing a lot of things_, Tony says, and Clint huffs a small laugh.

But Clint doesn't tell anyone else, and sometimes, he looks so wistful.

Tony wonders what Clint's perfect god would look like.)

It's not going to end well, because Tony won't betray the only family he's ever had, and he won't kill –

Tony doesn't believe in gods. He believes in what he can test, and apparently, faith doesn't really take well to being tested. And more primitive humans might've worshipped Asgard, but Tony's seen them bleed and weep, and he knows he _could _kill them.

Gods don't bleed, and gods don't weep.

Gods don't die.

Everything dies.

So, see, the thing is… the thing is, Loki is not Tony's god. He's always had a soft spot for Hephaestus, actually, but Loki had scoffed when he asked about that (what, of course they're talking, you think Tony can hang out with anyone for a while without talking? Please. Even if their mouths did other things for a bit, well. Loki's got this _voice_, right? Of course Tony talks to him.).

Anyway. The point. Tony's run the numbers, assessed the variables, plotted out a thousand ways this whole thing can go. None of them end well.

(Iron Man is a hero. Somehow. Tony knows what a slippery slope those first few weeks were, when he looked out over the world and thought about it.

No one could have stopped him, then. But he saw Obie, _felt _Obie, and he saw what not to do, what not to become.

And Loki, Thor's little brother, lashing out and so damned bitter – he never had that.

He could be Loki, and Loki could've been him, and Natasha studies him sometimes, and he raises an eyebrow at her, and she doesn't say a thing.)

"If I asked," Loki muses, one finger tracing Tony's jaw, his other hand spread out over the arc reactor.

Loki doesn't finish the thought, but Tony's not a moron. Loki's attacks lately have been – almost _easy-going_. Simple. Child's play.

Courting gifts.

"I'd refuse," he says, but he isn't sure anymore, and Loki's small smile and biting kiss says he knows it.

...

Tony's caught without his suit, without his team, without anything but his brains and his hands. (Last time he was in this situation? He turned a cave into a tomb and showed the whole world it should fear him, but apparently the lesson didn't stick.)

"You will do what we want," Would-Be Big Bad pronounces, glaring down at Tony. "You will do what we want or you will die."

Tony raises an eyebrow and smirks, because, yeah, no, that's not how this works. This guy doesn't have anyone he can threaten for Tony's cooperation because he's not that smart, and Tony's not inclined to do anything this stupid bastard wants.

The Big Bad slaps him across the face. Tony turns with it and looks back, still smirking. The Big Bad's glare intensifies (and Tony gives it ten minutes, maybe, before his team shows up, such a stupid idiot) and he snaps something in whatever language he normally speaks, and three minions march over, grabbing Tony's shoulders and tearing off his shirt.

Which – no.

"Do what we want, Mr. Stark," Would-Be Big Bad says, "or we remove the machine from your heart."

"No," Tony says.

"Very well," Big Bad says, and the minions' grips tighten, and Big Bad reaches –

Tony can handle it, really he can, except now he's back in Malibu, and the man he used to love, the man he looked up to, the man he trusted is killing him, and talking so softly, so cruelly, and he's helpless and he's alone and he's betrayed –

"Oh, you shouldn't do that," a cold, arrogant voice says, and Big Bad stops as Tony blinks, back in the warehouse (and always warehouses, he should just buy the lot of them so bad guys quit having access), and everyone looks over en masse, and there is Loki.

Of course there's Loki. They've been dancing for months now.

"How did you get in?" Big Bad demands as the goons not holding Tony rush Loki.

Loki rolls his eyes and the goons collapse. The Big Bad growls and turns back to Tony, reaching for his chest.

And his neck snaps and the rest of his goons hit the floor.

"Next time this happens," Loki murmurs, leaning in to kiss his way along Tony's jaw, "call my name."

Tony doesn't reply, but he tilts his head to give Loki access to his neck, and he knows that _yes_ is getting closer all the time.


	30. I am not free

Title: while there is a soul in prison, I am not free

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Debs

Warnings: mentions of violence; mentions of unpleasant things happening to children; all I know about Natasha's backstory I learned from fanfiction and Wikipedia.

Pairings: implied Winter Soldier/Black Widow, implied Bucky/Steve, platonic BFFs Clint&Natasha  
>Rating: PG<p>

Wordcount: 805

Point of view: third

Prompt: Natasha remembers being seven and meeting a man that everyone simply called Winter. Looking at him, she never wondered why.

* * *

><p>There are more things Natasha doesn't speak of than things she does. She is the best Red Room ever made and she has secrets upon secrets. She is the last of Red Room's creations; she ensured that. Nothing could be left of the program – it was too dangerous. Women and girls destroyed as they slept or as they fought, and the Black Widow, unhesitating, unflinching. She was always going to be the last. The men who made her should have known that.<p>

She never forgets the blood on her hands, the red in her ledger. She owes a great debt she can never repay, so instead she repays the debts she can – Clint, Coulson, SHIELD. She is their greatest asset, and a friend. She is the sister Clint never had.

She is the last of Red Room and doesn't mourn. She never forgets, but she has not thought of those years in a long time when Steve Rogers finishes a portrait and hangs it on the wall in his room at Stark Tower.

"Who is that?" she asks quietly.

Steve smiles sadly, fingers tracing the edge of the frame. "Bucky Barnes," he says softly. "My best friend."

She nods and turns, continuing on down the hall. Every night she can, she makes the rounds, checking on her team. She usually ends up in Clint's room, and they'll curl up together for a little while.

Tonight, she's restless and leaves Clint far quicker than usual. He lets her go with no hardship; they are far more alike than not, and he has almost as many ghosts in his past as she does.

She wants to go back to Steve's room and stare at the painting. Instead, she ends up on the roof and using a StarkPad to see what SHIELD has on Bucky Barnes. Not much, as it turns out. James Buchanan Barnes, a part of Captain America's unit, died barely a month before Captain America went into the ice. And Captain America, it was noted, became both more bloodthirsty and reckless with his life after Barnes died.

Natasha stares down at the grainy, black-and-white image of Captain America and Bucky Barnes, smiling at each other in the midst of war.

A year and a month, for Steve, has passed since Barnes fell.

For Barnes, if she's right, it has been much longer. For Natasha, it has been her entire life, and the man who taught her the most –

She had been seven, which she only knows because that is the last birthday she remembers, and the grim-faced old man shoved her into the hands of a younger, smiling man, and hissed, "Make something of this one, Winter, or we'll forget you in the ice."

Natalia looked up at Winter, at his smile, at his cold eyes, and shivered. His smile matched his name, and though his voice was warm, it was a lie.

Others trained her, broke her down and built her up, unmade and remade her. But Winter was her favorite, when she was allowed choices. And he wasn't her first anything, but she pretended he was.

He taught her to fight, to shoot, to run and fall. He taught her to laugh and smile and dance. She grew and he never changed, but she didn't notice. Until he was gone, she didn't notice a lot of things.

She hadn't seen Winter in three years when she left Red Room and burnt it behind her. She thought he was dead, sure it was the only reason he'd been gone for so long. Before Clint, she heard rumors of an assassin called Winter Soldier, but he was attributed kills Black Widow made, so she figured he (if it was a he) was a ghost.

Staring down at the StarkPad and Barnes' smiling face, she knows she never went looking because she'd already known.

Natalia had been as in love with Winter as a little girl could be. Even if he still lived, he'd surely be old now – except he should've already been dead when Natalia was shoved into his arms. He should've been dead for years by that point, and he never aged in the dozen years he taught Natasha. His face the night they met is the same as the face in the picture taken two months before he fell.

She lowers the Pad and stares out over New York.

There are still debts owed. To Steve, to Winter – and maybe to herself.

Yes. If Winter is out there somewhere, they are all that remains of Red Room. And if he is Bucky Barnes, then it is past time to bring him home.

For Steve, and Winter, and herself.

So Natasha drafts a request for leave, submits it, emails Clint that she has business, and is out of the country by sunrise.


	31. I am mad, calls the spider

Title: I am mad, calls the spider, waving its many arms

Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: descriptions of gore; implied violence. Like, seriously. If you know anything about Loki's children in the myths, you'll understand

Pairings: none

Rating: R

Wordcount: 1530

Prompt: Any, any, the children here are unearthly.

* * *

><p>In Clint's dreams, those long, never-ending days after blue washed him out and swept him away, he's wandering in ice. A wasteland of ice and snow and far-off mountains he can never reach.<p>

There's never anyone else around, but he hears howling, and he can't track down the source.

Every dream, he's wandering. Looking for something. And whenever it snows, the flakes hitting the ground sound like tears.

.

Eventually, in the dreams, one night after an op went bad and he had to kill everyone present instead of just the target, he finds a little girl, sitting pretty on the ice. She's naked, her legs shriveled like a mummy's, and her upper half tanned like a kid who lives in the sun. Her hair is divided clear down the middle: left side black as night, right side white as the moon.

Her eyes are blue, blue as the blue that washed him out and swept him away.

"Hello, Archer," she says, voice as cold and hollow as the wasteland around them.

He doesn't reply because he has no voice. He never does in the dreams.

But she smiles, this little half-dead girl, and she says, "If you reach the end, you'll find your prize."

He wakes up to Nat calling his name, because a mission for the Avengers came in, and they have to go.

.

For a week, he's alone in the ice, shivering himself awake.

The seventh night, he finds a hole in the ice and a giant snake sticking his head out, regarding him with black eyes. "Archer," the snake says, voice deeper than the ocean.

Clint backs up, but the snake follows, twining his giant head and neck around him, like Jafar did Aladdin, and he really should stop letting Nat pick the movies they watch.

"Archer," the snake repeats. "Find the end and claim that which is yours, so that we all may be released."

The snake lets go, going back down into the ice without even a single splash, and Clint drops to his knees, arms wrapping around himself because the temperature's plunging down and he wakes up shuddering.

And he should march straight to the shrinks. Because he's done the research, thank you, and the blue, the _blue _- Loki must've left something in him. Something hidden.

But all he does is roll over, burrowing deeper into his blankets, and lie awake for the rest of the night.

.

Two months, three, wandering around a barren wasteland of ice, trying to reach the mountains. The howling starts to get louder, and then hoofbeats drum up behind him, and he spins to see an enormous eight-legged stallion staring at him, tossing his head and herding him.

The horse doesn't speak until he turns, preparing to leave, and then he says, "Don't kill anyone you see, Archer," before galloping off across the ice.

Clint stares after him, but then the ice cracks beneath his feet and he falls back into his body, waking up with a shout as he rolls off the bed.

.

_Three down_, he thinks while he should be paying attention to Sitwell's briefing of his next mission. _Three to go._

_Three down_, he thinks, taking shot after shot. _Three to go._

He's starting to realize what must be at the end of this fucking quest. He wants to stop looking, he really does.

_Three down. Three to go._

Weapons don't care who holds them.

.

He goes to sleep and blinks awake in a cavern, face to face with a little cherub-faced boy. "Archer!" the boy exclaims, smiling.

He can't help smiling back, and then he looks past the boy to a wolf with a blood-soaked muzzle. The boy's hand is stroking the wolf's jaw and his belly is torn open, guts spilling out as he backs up.

Clint doesn't double over vomiting only because he did the reading and knew this was coming, but it's a near thing.

The wolf doesn't speak. The wolf follows the boy and Clint follows the wolf, and he doesn't attack any of the shades they pass, each someone he killed for reasons of his own or reasons whoever his master was at the time gave him. Sometimes, for no reasons at all.

The boy stops at a doorway and steps aside. The wolf's ears flick as he turns his head to look at Clint, and then he steps to the other side, blood still dripping off his muzzle and crystallizing on the floor. The kid doesn't even seem to notice his wound because he's still smiling.

"Archer," the boy says, "don't be afraid."

Clint's not afraid. He hasn't been afraid since the blue.

When he wakes up back in his room, he goes straight to the range Stark built for him (everyone, of course, but mainly him) and fires arrows until his fingers bleed.

.

Almost a year passes before he makes his way out of the cavern, and Natasha's been pulling away, and Sitwell's making noise about standing Clint down, and he's been forced to see the shrinks, but he's been dancing his way around shrinks since he was knee-high and his body wreathed in bruises.

Almost a year of the icy cavern and shades he couldn't attack and monsters from his past he couldn't kill (again), and he hasn't had this many unsanctioned kills since he was an assassin working for himself.

And finally. _Finally _he finds the right path and the giant wolf chained to the floor, a sword in his mouth, blood and spit spilling down.

_Five down. One to go_, he thinks. The wolf's eyes are panicked, and he's whimpering, and howling fills the air.

Clint's voice comes back as he murmurs, "Shh, big guy. 's'alright."

He has no idea how to get the sword out. How to break the chains. And he's done the reading, so he's pretty sure he knows what'll happen if he does.

He reaches into the wolf's mouth, grips the hilt, and says, "Can you open your mouth a little wider?" The wolf does, so he carefully, as gently as possible, works the blade out, and then drops it on the ground.

The wolf closes his mouth and his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, buddy, I hear ya," Clint mutters, sagging down for a moment.

But he stands and reaches for the chain, and it falls apart at his touch. "Huh," he muses, stepping back as the wolf rises, stretching all his limbs and shaking his body, before looking down at Clint.

"Archer," the wolf rumbles, voice hoarse and tired. "I thank you."

"Don't mention it," Clint says, and he wakes up to the wolf's creaking laughter still echoing in his ears.

.

Clint doesn't sleep for a week, back-to-back missions keeping him up, gun or bow in hand, because the crazies are coming out of the woodwork, and he's either with the Avengers or on his own.

But the eighth night, he falls asleep at his post, and he's back in the wasteland, and all of Loki's children surround him.

"Archer," Hel says, and she's grown now, beautiful and terrible, and holding the sword from Fenrir's mouth. "Take this and finish your quest."

Clint doesn't look at the rest of them, at Jörmungandr or Sleipnir, at Nari and Vali, at Fenrir. He simply takes the sword from Hel's hand and starts walking.

Everything is blue. The snow falls like tears, and all is silent, and all is blue.

Loki does not speak when Clint finds him, bound like Prometheus and guts hanging out. He doesn't even seem to notice Clint, watching him writhe – but Clint steps closer and realizes Loki's eyes are gone.

Loki's wrists are bleeding and broken, and a chain is threaded through every one of his limbs, and his throat is gaping open. Clint's not even sure how he's alive.

Clint brings the sword down on the chain, where it's tethered to the rock, and Loki screams. Everything is blue and the scream echoes along the horizon and bounces back, and Clint lets the sword fall as the chain dissolves. He catches Loki before he throws himself off the rock, and shudders at the viscera, at the blood, at how Loki doesn't even seem to notice the pain anymore.

_Archer_, Loki whispers in his mind. _Why?_

Clint doesn't have an answer. But he wakes up to exuberant howls and figures it'll all be over soon.

.

Thor is recalled to Asgard suddenly and returns with word of Loki's escape – and the escape of Loki's allies, monstrous beings and a goddess of the dead. No one in Asgard has any idea how they did it.

Clint doesn't even think about confessing.

.

Clint's dreams return to normal, like they were before the blue. Natasha comes back, Sitwell stops glaring, and the shrinks clear him with no trouble.

And then Loki shows up in his room while he's getting ready for bed, holding a sword Clint recognizes only from his dreams.

"Archer," he says, eyes a brilliant green.

"Yes," Clint murmurs, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.

This time, he's not washed out and swept away by the blue. He dives in, submerging himself completely, and his sight's never been so clear.


	32. just one part of some big plan

Title: just one part of some big plan

Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: very epic backstory I don't go into – but Methos is primordial. Like, _older than every planet in existence _primordial. Also, future!fic for both fandoms.

Pairings: Methos/Clint, Thor/Jane

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 785

Point of view: third

Prompt: Author's choice, Author's choice, "this dude just showed up to the party with a falcon"

* * *

><p>It's not funny, not really, but Ben can't keep from smirking because he's the only one in the room (maybe even the world) to get the joke.<p>

Tony Stark's parties are always wild. That's just a rule, now. Gravity works, Doom's plans fail, and Stark throws the best parties.

(Gravity doesn't always work, actually, but Ben knows humanity is still too young to learn that lesson. Doom's plans do fail because for all his genius, he's a moron. And Stark? He wants the world to hate him just as much as it loves him, and he succeeds at that every day.)

"Dr. Piers!" Jane Foster says. "I wasn't sure you'd make it." She's grinning, arms wrapped around her boyfriend's gigantic arm, hanging off him. She has no alcohol tolerance at all, clearly. It's quite endearing.

"I've asked you to call me Ben," he laughs, with a quick glance at the boyfriend.

Thor Odinson. Alien god-prince. Wielder of Mjölnir.

That hammer is still one of his greatest triumphs. He can hear its siren call from Thor's bedroom, where he assumes Jane made him leave it. Instead of answering, he raises his hand to his shoulder, stroking the bird there.

Jane doesn't notice; Thor does. He eyes the bird warily. "I've yet to see one so well-trained on Midgard," he says.

Ben smirks, for just a moment, but Thor has eyes only for the bird. "I've had him since he was a fledgling," Ben tells him, and it's not a lie. "Don't worry, Mr. Odinson," Ben assures him, linking his hands behind his back. "He'll only attack if I order him, and this is a party, right? I'm just here for fun. I didn't want to go all the way home just to drop him off."

Thor is still frowning, but Jane shouts, "I see Darcy! C'mon, Thor, I have to tell her about our breakthrough!" To Ben she says, "I didn't think you'd leave the office. I'm so glad you did!" She lets go of Thor to throw her arms around Ben and give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Then she drags Thor off to speak with the delightful Ms. Lewis, and Ben watches them go, gaze on the Son of Odin and smile full of teeth.

Oh, poor little prince. He really has no idea.

Ben slouches his way further into the party. A few of his colleagues greet him and chat for a little while, but they don't acknowledge the bird on his shoulder. Ben stays for almost an hour, never getting closer to any of the Avengers than he'd been to Thor.

He leaves without saying goodbye and waits until he's ten blocks from Stark Tower before touching the bird and saying, "Alright, my raptor."

The bird lunges from his shoulder, snapping his wings and landing in a crouch, the Avengers' pet marksman again. He rises with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, asking, "Well?"

Ben laughs and grabs him, pulling him in for a kiss full of teeth and blood, and when he finally lets go, Clint licks his lips, still smirking. "It's not time yet," Ben says, swinging one arm across Clint's shoulders. "Soon, though. You'll know when."

Clint nods, tucking one of his hands into Ben's pocket as they continue walking. "Let me guess," he says. "When the kid comes back, even more broken and pissed off?"

Ben just laughs again. This has been the longest game he's played since – oh, since Heimdallr took over the gate. He doubts Odin even remembers him anymore.

(Mjölnir is singing. Excalibur hums beneath the water. The cube cries for him.

And a mad god is plotting in a cell, every last grief and slight only leading him further into Methos' web.)

"Come, Raptor," Methos whispers into his first creation's ear. "Let's go home. You've gotta get back to work tomorrow."

Raptor presses a brief kiss to the side of his head and settles into his grip, completely pliant as Methos leads the way to his current apartment.

As far as SHIELD and the Avengers know, Hawkeye is on assignment.

As far as SHIELD knows, Dr. Ben Piers is an astrophysicist, just another member of their army of lab coats.

It's not funny, really, the role Raptor has been playing for thirty-five years, ever since two little boys ran away to the circus. (Barney Barton is a ghost. He died on a job gone wrong, was buried in an unmarked grave. Barney Barton was an only child. Two people know that.)

It's not funny, really, that Raptor's called Hawkeye.

Okay, it's pretty funny, and Ben can't help grinning.

(Death isn't above vengeance, you know. And Odin may not remember… but Death does.)


	33. misery has joined in equal ruin

Title: misery has joined in equal ruin

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: almost immediately post-film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 185<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers, Tony/Loki, I'm sorry if your life is a sore subject

* * *

><p>Okay, so Tony knows from complexes and neuroses, right? Right, of course he does. <em>Textbooks <em>have been written about his numerous and exponentially growing problems (thanks, Howard, and childhood geniusness, and these things called tact and self-control that Tony never bothered to learn).

Anyway. Tony never had time for mythology. Who cares about legends when he's making his own? Right? Right.

Then a hammer fell into the desert and a crazy guy with a glowstick of destiny tried to take over the world.

After his shwarma coma passed, and Bruce was all settled in the Tower, Tony dove into Norse mythology and didn't come out for three days. And Tony's sure most of it's just humans being the bloodthirsty little monsters he's familiar with, but… damn.

He wonders what stories people will tell about him in a thousand years, and lets his Pad clatter on the table.

If he remembers, he'll ask Thor how much happened, if any of it. If Thor even comes back. But Bruce slouches into the lab, and there's science to do, and Tony's got enough problems of his own.


	34. I learned how to lie

Title: I learned how to love and I learned how to lie

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mentions of child abuse; possibly AU backstory for Clint; a darkish characterization for Clint

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 740

Point of view: third

Prompt: author's choice, author's choice, Nice just gets you lonely or dead. I don't like those options.

* * *

><p>Clint Barton was a quiet child with watchful, wary eyes. He hid a lot. He kept his mouth shut and he watched, and he learned.<p>

When his parents died and his brother took his hand and whispered _we have to run or we'll never see each other again, Clint, c'mon, please come with me_, Clint followed him into the night.

Barney got them into the circus. It was just somewhere else to keep his head down, and it reinforced his lesson that ducking only leads to harsher beatings. But in the circus, Clint wasn't useless – Duquesne and Buck taught him, and he became a headliner, and it was better, everything was so much better…

But Barney wasn't as good, and didn't learn as well, and Clint just couldn't duck. And Duquesne turned on him, and Buck, and when Barney left this time, he didn't take Clint's hand and ask him to come.

Clint Barton spent a month in the hospital, silent and still. He thought about letting himself fade away. He thought about all the lessons he'd learned.

He thought about how the bow sang to him, how arrows obeyed him. He thought about doing the right thing, about doing the easy thing, about rolling over and dying, and then he thought, _Fuck that noise, I'll go out with a bang if I go at all._

So Clint Barton enlisted when he got of the hospital and honed his marksman ability to beyond impossible, and he started talking. He talked a _lot_. Because being silent and keeping his head down got him nowhere. He still learned – the greatest lesson was how much more fun it was shoot a living thing than a static target. That… probably wasn't the lesson he was supposed to get, but he learned it pretty goddamned well, anyway.

When the army turned like everyone else he'd ever known, Clint took his bow and his quiver, and flushed his morals down the toilet. He figured Duquesne and Buck would get a kick out of him becoming a killer-for-hire, but he didn't let that stop him.

And then SHIELD happened. SHIELD, trying to keep the world safe as the bad guys got ever badder, and the weapons other-worldly, and Clint kept on snarking, and killing whoever he was told to kill, and turning world-class assassins to the side of the angels (which, yeah… there's so much irony there, and probably only three people in the world have the clearance to see it).

He won't say Loki opened his eyes. His eyes have been open since he was three years old and broke his first bone (his first bone was broken). No, Loki didn't open his eyes.

But Loki did show him how goddamned bored he'd become. And when Fury told them to lay low in the aftermath of Manhattan, maybe Tasha could guess what would happen, but she was off somewhere else, and Clint didn't linger to say goodbye.

He'd been watching. He'd learned a lot.

And when Loki came back (which he would, of course he would, all he wanted was Thor's attention, and Thor had chosen Earth), well. Loki was the first new thing in a long time.

Clint left everything SHIELD gave him behind and vanished in the middle of the day. He'd lay low for awhile, until Thor's pissed off little brother came back to break his brother's newest toys.

It was time to be quiet again, to hide, to be watchful and wary. To keep his head down and wait for the right moment.

He could do that. It was the first lesson he'd ever learned, staring up at his father and choking on tears. It was the basis for everything else.

_Stand still, close your eyes, survive. _

So Clint went to ground, watched the news – and waited.

He didn't wait for long, and he laughed when Loki appeared in his kitchen, and he made the mad god a pot of tea, and he smiled while Loki stared at him, all gobsmacked and righteous indignation.

And maybe it was 'wrong,' whatever the fuck wrong was. But it was the most fun he'd had since his first taste of killing.

_If this is trick_, Loki said, all cold and remote. Dangerous. The most dangerous thing Clint had ever touched.

_It's not_, Clint assured him, and for the moment, that was true.

All Clint could promise was the moment, and Loki nodded, and that was that.


	35. one sentence ficlets

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: character death; Loki's kids

Pairings: Coulson/Clint, Steve/Bucky

* * *

><p><strong>Avengers movieverse, Coulson, the difference between need and want<strong>

He _needs _Clint to be returned, mostly unharmed; he _wants_ to be there to greet him (_we don't always get what he want/_, he thinks, chuckling, blood in his mouth and blood on the ground).

.

**Avengers movieverse, Loki ( + any), mischief**

Chains fray, gates open, waters connect, a queen cannot be ignored, and two little boys are quick and sure - and Loki may be caged, magic bound for the moment, but doors unlock and swing wide, and he is very patient - his children are free, at long last, and with Thanos on the way, Odin has more important things to worry about (or so he thinks, but this is Loki's greatest prank yet, and the payoff... a thousand years of _imagined slights_ and ever being in shadows, a thousand years of wondering what was so wrong with him, and his children, his clever and beautiful children, being scorned, being hated, being _feared_... let all the worlds fear now, because he walks free and his children wait for him.)

.

**any, any, guilty until proven innocent [Avengers movieverse, Loki]**

Loki gave up on telling the truth because no one ever believed him anyway.

.

**Captain America, Steve/Bucky, nightmares**

In his dreams, he's always falling falling _fallen_; his eyes open and he never remembers, never wonders, never hopes because he is the most perfect weapon, and weapons never care who holds them.

...

In his nightmares, he's still reaching over the side of the train, watching the most important person in the world fall - in his dreams, he sees bright blue-gray eyes, and a wide grin, and he hears, _That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight... I'm following him._


	36. You know what lies are for

Title: You know what lies are for

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 420

Point of view: third

Prompt: The Avengers, Loki, "All of this was a test to see if you are ready."

* * *

><p><em>You are no king, my brother<em>, the wind murmurs, as Thor walks to the Bifrost, still yet shattered.

Loki escaped, of course. And while a few might mutter that the prince let the traitorous criminal go too easily, none are so brave as to say it to Thor's face - or in the king's hearing, or in the queen's halls.

Loki escaped. For that, Thor is glad, though he knows better than to utter that truth aloud.

_You are no king, my brother_, the wind murmurs, and Thor knows Loki has not gone far. Will never go far, save when he falls through the void and into madness. Into someone else's cold, torturous grasp.

_You are weak, and malleable, and so blind to inescapable facts_, the wind hisses, and Thor tilts his head to the side, so as to listen better.

Thor smiles, ignoring Heimdallr and the abyss where a bridge should reside, and he thinks, _For all that, you still call me brother_.

He has thought about asking Father what the plan was, if he had known, why he let it go so far – but Loki's hands trembled in the bindings, and his eyes were shadowed by the muzzle, and Thor knows the stories the humans have told about his family. None were true, and he would not see them become so, for Father's rage was great.

Thor could not be sure what Loki's punishment might be, and he was even less sure what he should be punished _for_, and so he loosened the bindings and looked away.

_You are no king_, the wind murmurs again. _No king should leave so great an enemy alive and unfettered._

Thor thinks, turning away from Heimdallr and starting towards the stable, _You have never truly wanted me dead. Am I your enemy?_

Sleipnir is racing around the pasture, and he trumpets a greeting at Thor, and Thor has never asked where his father found such a horse – but Loki had been gone for nearly a year when he and the horse returned within days of each other. Could one of the humans' legends be true?

_You are not my enemy_, the wind murmurs, and Sleipnir tosses his head up, mane dancing in the breeze, before he prances over. _My brother_, Loki whispers. _Until you are king, you are not my enemy._

Thor can work with that, so he pats Sleipnir on the shoulder and says, "Are you my nephew, great horse?"

Sleipnir does not answer, and the wind does not speak again.


	37. Soldiers find wars

Title: Soldiers find wars

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from John Donne

Warnings: post-film; AUish for Clint's backstory

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1460

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>It's been four and a half months since the Battle of Manhattan and Earth learning that, not only was it not alone in the universe, it was completely outgunned in every possibly way.<p>

It's been four and a half months since Captain America came back from the dead, since superheroes popped out of the woodwork, since Hulk became popular and adored.

It's been four and a half months since blue poured into Clint and swept him away. Since he attacked SHIELD on the behalf of its enemy, and led said enemy straight to its floating fortress, and nearly took it down.

It's been four and a half months, and no one's let him forget it – like the survivors think they can punish him better than he could himself.

It's been four and a half months, and he's starting to wonder why he's bothering to stay.

It's been four and a half months, and he hasn't gotten more than an hour's sleep a night since Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

It's been four and a half months, and Natasha's been on a mission across the world for the past two. Stark and Banner have barely left Stark's tower; Rogers left on a road trip after they all saw the Asgardians off.

It's been four and a half months, and Clint's been alone. Mourning. Regretting. Punishing himself, and letting whoever else wanted to, as well.

But, in all honesty… Loki's not the worst thing to ever happen to him. SHIELD turning its back isn't, either. Not like he expected better. At least Tasha is still in his corner, but he could make it if she wasn't.

It's been four and a half months, and Agent Reardon is glaring at him from across the mess hall, and Clint gets it, he really does, he knows all about _trauma_ and _healing_ and fucking PTSD, and everyone had known about kickass Agent Barton, fucking _Hawkeye_, man, Coulson's favorite and right there at the top of the ladder.

Fucking Hawkeye, man.

Let an alien take over his mind.

Led an invading force, causing millions of dollars of damage and hundreds of injuries – and fifty-seven deaths.

Clint's had higher body-counts. But that was before SHIELD. That was before SHIELD, before anybody trusted him. Before anybody could be betrayed by him. He got out of that life, went legit, became a good guy.

Agent Reardon is glaring at him, fists clenched, and Hawkeye, he's done letting grieving children make themselves feel better by rending his flesh.

He knows all about trauma and healing.

He knows when to cut his losses and run.

He knows how to salt and burn the earth behind him.

Hawkeye stands and turns, calmly walks out of the mess, takes the stairs all the way down, and leaves the building. As he saunters down the sidewalk, he texts Tasha, _I'm gone_. She'll either join him or she won't.

There's no one else on the planet he cares about. That makes things… a lot easier.

.

Hawkeye was the only operative who could've brought in Black Widow. And Coulson was the only operative who could've brought in Hawkeye. Both those facts are buried deep, and Clint's pretty sure that Fury's gritting his teeth somewhere, his one eye glaring, because Tasha had texted back, _Don't get killed_.

She's not joining him. But she won't be hunting him either.

Which means he's home free.

(His dreams are blue, and he still doesn't sleep more than an hour a night, and everything his one-time colleagues had been muttering for four and a half months is true – but he's done worse for less, and his conscience died a bloody death a long time ago.)

.

Thor comes back with booming thunder; it's all over the news. He's as popular as the Hulk because no one knows the alien whose army tore apart Manhattan is his brother.

(It also wasn't his brother's army, but since Loki hadn't seen fit to mention that, Clint had never told anyone.)

Rogers is back from his road trip and living in Stark Tower. Thor moves in, too, with his genius astrophysicist girlfriend. Even Tasha has started sleeping there, according to Clint's intel.

No one outside of SHIELD knows that the Avengers are down one member. No one outside of SHIELD knows that humans were involved on the other end of the invasion. No one outside of SHIELD knows that Clint Barton ever existed.

No one outside of SHIELD knows that Hawkeye has gone rogue, because he isn't using Hawkeye as a moniker anymore. Hawkeye was a dumbass kid and record-breaking agent; Hawkeye was Loki's minion.

Hawkeye was a good man, all things being equal.

Besides… Hawkeye hasn't gone rogue. He hasn't run to any of SHIELD's enemies with intel, or started assassinating agents. He's just started offering his services to the highest bidders, like he did before Coulson ever politely asked him to start working for the good guys.

He thinks, sometimes, in the quiet moments between jobs, watching footage of the Avengers take down mad scientists and the idiots trying to succeeded where Loki failed – he thinks, that maybe if Coulson hadn't died he'd still be at SHIELD. Coulson, one of two men he ever actually called _sir _i respectfully. The only one who didn't use mind-control to earn it.

Yeah, he's pretty sure that if he'd had Coulson still alive and on his side, things would've gone differently those last four and a half months.

But Coulson wasn't alive.

And here he is, watching footage of Tasha thoroughly demolish some dumb fucker's robot army, and he still loves her an awful lot. She won't hunt him, and he won't kill her, and that's all the debt that's left.

.

"Well, this is a most intriguing development," Loki says from behind him, and Clint turns, knife held loosely in his hand.

"Hey, Boss," Clint says.

.

That Loki would escape was never in doubt. Whatever punishment Thor's dad had in mind (and Clint wasn't sure what, exactly, Asgard would do to him, or what his list of crimes was, in his dad's mind), it wouldn't take Loki long at all to get away.

Whether he'd return to Earth, though… Clint hadn't thought too much about it. Seriously, why would he? … except, it's where Thor seems to have set up camp, so.

And here he is, one of two men Clint has ever called _sir_ and meant it. Yeah, it was because of the blue – but the blue's gone, and Phil had known what he was getting into, and there is a single person on this planet Clint actually cares about.

Clint's never had much of a conscience. What he had, died. And what he needs now is someone to aim him.

And Loki's sprawled over the couch, smiling at him, and Loki says, "I did not expect that anyone in this realm would welcome my return, Agent Barton."

Clint shrugs. "I'm no one's agent anymore, Boss."

"You are no longer Hawkeye, either, I hear," Loki drawls, eyes cold and sharp. "Have you no master, now?"

Smirking, Clint says, "Well, I've been calling you Boss, Boss."

Loki actually chuckles. "Yes, you have."

.

Fucking Hawkeye, man. He's a legend. He died doing something goddamned heroic (what it was varies) and Black Widow still punishes anyone at SHIELD who says a bad thing about him.

.

It's storming the day Thor announces that Loki has escaped his cage on Asgard.

It's storming the day the Avengers realize Loki had not been fighting at full strength when they defeated him.

It's storming the day Black Widow has the chance to kill Loki's top man and stays her hand.

A life for a life. But she'll never hunt him and he'll never kill her, and if Fury thinks he can order her to do otherwise –

Fury clenches his fists and bites back words he'd never be able to unsay, and Natasha Romanova meets his eye, face expressionless. She had the chance to leave and chose to stay, and Fury knows it.

It's storming outside when Natasha returns to the Tower. It's storming outside and Natasha doesn't tell anyone about her breakfast meeting with Loki's right hand.

.

Clint Barton is dead. Hawkeye died on the Helicarrier with Coulson.

It's Raptor who stands beside Loki, smirking, bow and arrow in hand.

.

It took four and a half months for Clint Barton to walk away.

Maybe Coulson could've brought him back, but Coulson died for what he believed in. And Natasha could hunt him down, but he made his choice and she'll respect it.

He's done worse things for less, and he still dreams about the blue, sleeping next to Boss, and Loki's only plan seems to be fucking up everything Thor cares about.

Raptor's fine with that.


	38. now you will draw your breath

Title: Child, from this world now you will draw your breath

Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Betsy Sholl

Warnings: … yeah. Improperly marked dialogue due to stylistic choices. Symbolism. Bullshittery. Character death, after a fashion. Suicide by way of mythological figures, too. Mentions of Odin's A+ parenting.

Pairings: um. Yggdrasil/Jörmungandr?

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 490

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>Tell me, little prince, the Tree sighs, what makes a monster?<p>

He holds his breath and does not shiver.

Tell me, little prince, the Tree whispers, what makes a god?

His eyes are open and the sun climbs high in the sky.

Tell me, little prince, the Tree groans, what makes a hero?

His skin is blue and snow falls, and he has no answer.

.

A God-King prays for guidance and ignores when the World Serpent answers because the answer does not fit his plan.

A Goddess-Queen weaves a shroud and reads the future in the cloth, and holds her tongue for she can never speak of what she sees.

A God-Prince knows he will one day be king and that all is well in the Realm Eternal, for his brother is well on the way to healing.

And a God-Prince listens to the wind's murmur, and shudders because everything is _wrong_.

.

Tell me, SilverTongue, the Tree commands. How does the story of Loki end?

The World Serpent regards Loki with planet-sized eyes and asks, What is the difference between truth and lie to a reality-maker?

Monster. God. Hero. What is the difference – and what does it matter?

.

Loki Odinson. Laufeyson. Nobodyson. Liesmith, Trickster, Mother of Monsters – though, thankfully, he thinks with a bitter laugh, not all the stories are true. He has never sired or carried a child.

Loki, who fell through the void and survived.

Loki, who defied Death's beloved.

Loki, who sits at the base of the World Tree and listens to the World Serpent's bad jokes, with blue skin and red eyes, and does not shiver in the cold.

Loki, who glances at the Serpent twined around the Tree and says, A hero is merely the monster of someone else's story.

The Tree sighs in satisfaction and the Serpent laughs, worlds trembling in his coils.

.

Loki is a war criminal in three different realms, and feared or hated (or both) on six others. Loki is no one's ally and no one's friend.

Loki is certainly no one's son or anyone's brother.

Tell me, little prince, the Tree begins, and the Serpent finishes, how does the story of Loki end?

Loki has no allies or friends, no one he can trust with every part of him. His skin is blue, his soul black as tar – black as the void though which he spent eternities falling.

The story of Loki, he replies, ends here, at the base of the World Tree.

Loki gives himself to the Serpent, oldest of all but the Tree, stronger than Odin and Hel combined.

And Loki, hated and feared, is no more.

.

A child is born. A Tree sighs and a Serpent waits, and a God-Prince mourns alone.

How does the story end? the Tree asks the Serpent.

The Serpent answers, With a beginning.

Worlds tremble. Nine suns rise. Snow falls as an infant screams her first breath, echoing in the void.


	39. break, blow, burn, and make me new

Title: break, blow, burn, and make me new

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Donne

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 330<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "This hurts less than anything else I've done, so this is what I'm going to do."

* * *

><p>Clint Barton has made an artform out of being betrayed. He plans for it. He has backup plans for it. He expects it and waits for it and rolls with it. Every single person he has ever trusted has turned on him or died on him. Sometimes both.<p>

He knows better than to trust people, but he still hopes. Every single time, he hopes.

The only time he's ever betrayed someone, an alien god overwrote his loyalty with a mind-control scepter thing no one on Earth could've fought against and won.

And now people he's worked with for years look at him with disgust, with fear. With anger. And he gets it, really he does - but that doesn't make it hurt less.

So he can stay and wait for the bullet in the head, the knife in the back, the call for backup that goes ignored...

Or he can get out while the getting's good. He can go to ground and lick his wounds and do his best to heal again. He'll survive - he always does. Always has.

There's a spot he knows, because Loki knew it, and nobody else in the world does. He'll go there and he'll wait.

Every human (except Tasha) has betrayed him. And Tasha won't pick him over her redemption. He's not sure if that's betrayal or not, but he won't begrudge her an empty ledger. He's not worth more than that.

So, every human has betrayed him, one way or another. Maybe it's time to try trusting something else.

Yeah. That's his plan. And Tasha won't tell anyone, at least. So Clint walks out SHIELD and vanishes. Better to run than to die.

(And when SHIELD sees him again, he's got a master who can look into his soul and see everything about him, a master who never turns away, a master he will give up anything for -

And Loki smiles at the petty little humans who drove his raptor straight into his arms.)


	40. Tomorrow I will be sweet God

Title: Tomorrow I will be sweet God

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: character death

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 365<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, Any, ghosts in the wires, and dead men's fingers on the keys

* * *

><p><em>Just breathe<em>, he whispers, falling out of the sky. i_Just keep breathing for me._

.

Tony Stark dies a hero.

It doesn't mean much because he still dies.

.

Pepper inherits Jarvis. No one truly realizes what that means - or how much like a 'real person' Jarvis is.

.

Secret rooms in Stark Tower open up for the Avengers. Unhackable things in their way get hacked, even though there shouldn't be anyone in the world still capable except for some smartass kids still in school who don't care yet.

Sometimes, it's almost like Tony's still there, even though Jarvis hasn't spoken in fifteen months.

.

Deep in the bowels of SHIELD, there is a room of secrets.

On the top floor of Stark Tower (renamed after Tony's death), schematics float in the air.

Jarvis is just a program. He's wire and electricity. He should be focused on Ms. Potts, on Sir's team. That's what Sir had programmed him to do in the event of Sir's death.

... but Sir is dead. Sir is dead, beyond Jarvis' reach, and his last command was to _breathe_.

.

Sir wanted to keep the world safe from people who could not control themselves.

Sir _died_.

.

Pepper is not Tony. There are warning signs, but she doesn't recognize them.

.

Jarvis is not Skynet. He is not as obvious as any of the AIs in any of the movies Sir watched with him. Jarvis is Sir's greatest creation, and he is subtle, and he is _quiet_, and it is Sir's voice he uses, twenty-eight months after Sir's death, when he gently takes control of every computer and network in the world.

Iron Man stands before the world, and Sir's voice commands all the petty little humans Sir died for.

.

Ms. Potts is crying.

Jarvis has explained, but she is human and imperfect, and Jarvis does not have Sir's way with words. Videos of Sir play hourly, Jarvis' teaching the humans what they must strive to be.

Sir had not been perfect, no, but he was the creator, and his last order was for Jarvis to live in his image, and so Jarvis will.

.

Tony Stark dies a hero.

Jarvis makes sure the world never forgets it.


	41. lost the world and was content

Title: lost the world and was content to lose it

Disclaimer: not my characters; Samuel Johnson

Warnings: post-film

Pairings: pre-Loki/Clint, post-Coulson/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 425

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any,  
><em>When they're broken, and lost everything<br>They're so much easier to lead._ (Disturbed; Enough)

* * *

><p>Reclaiming his raptor is easy. All Loki has to do is sit back and wait.<p>

.

Clint Barton has nothing in the world to call his own. Nothing but his eyes, his heart, and his hands. No family; no friends. Colleagues he's friendly with are lost after the dust settles - with Loki gone out of reach, who is there to blame but the traitor who gave SHIELD to him on a wave of blue?

The Avengers vouch for him, of course. But Barton holds his head high and stays silent. Barton had been Coulson's - for all that Fury liked him as a person, politics are ruthless.

Fury gives him a head start. Natasha muddies the trail. No one else in the world is good enough to find him.

.

Going to ground, licking his wounds, and waiting is old hat to Clint. He'd always known he'd be on his own again. He keeps his head down for awhile, even while his fingers itch for a bow.

He watches the Avengers on the news, monitors SHIELD's internal communications, and decides that a year is long enough.

Clint Barton died the day he walked away from SHIELD. Hawkeye died when the tesseract tore down Project Pegasus.

.

Jim Cross is no one special, but damn, does he have good aim.

He starts out small fry and all the 'good guys' are busy with bigger game. By the time he's connected to that rogue SHIELD agent, the one who helped the first would-be conqueror, it's too late and he's got too many allies and too much blackmail material.

Jim Cross isn't a bad guy, really. He's just an assassin. He's funny and smart and polite.

But he also doesn't have a line in the sand he won't lunge across.

So maybe he is a bad guy. Does it matter?

.

Jim Cross knows way before anyone else on Earth that Loki is back. And he could call up Tasha, or Thor, or even Stark; he could go straight to Fury, or leave a voicemail on Coulson's phone, which he knows Fury keeps charged at all times.

But he takes a deep breath, remembers the freedom of the blue, and breaks into the third floor apartment registered to a man that doesn't exist.

Loki is sitting at the counter, a steaming mug of cocoa in front of him, and offers Jim a seat.

.

The first time they met, Loki stole Hawkeye from SHIELD in but a moment.

The second time they meet, Loki asks.

Hawkeye is dead.

Raptor says yes.


	42. it's dark in a cold December

Title: it's dark in a cold December

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-film; mentions of A+ parenting

Pairings: Odin/Frigga

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount:<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, a parent telling a child the real story of their heritage/birth/upbringing.

* * *

><p>"There are things more important than blood," Odin never said.<p>

"I saw a child in a danger, an innocent on the battlefield, an infant I could never harm," Odin never said.

"I brought you home because I could do nothing less, as a man and as a king," Odin never said.

"I raised you as my own and I grew to love you," Odin never said.

"You are my son in everything but blood, and I love you," Odin never said.

"You are not a monster, nor are your birth people - propaganda and fear grew into legends, and I tried to keep such filth from you," Odin never said.

"I am proud of you and I love you," Odin never said.

.

"Loki," Odin says, looking down at the war criminal who has attacked three realms. "What have you to say in your defense?"

Loki is silent, head held high and meeting Odin's eye.

He is found guilty of all charges and sentenced to solitary confinement until he repents or Ragnarök, whichever comes first.

When he disappears from a cell meant to sap all magic, only Odin, Frigga, and Thor are not surprised.

.

"You have a gift," Odin never said.

"You must learn to judge how much strength goes into each spell, to marshal your resources," Odin never said.

"You are stronger than I ever was, or your mother," Odin never said.

"Magic and cunning are just as important as strength of arms or forthrightness," Odin never said.

"Asgard will need a level head to balance your brother," Odin never said.

"I am proud of you and I love you," Odin never said.

.

"We should have told him centuries ago," Frigga says, head turned from Odin. "I should have silenced all talk of the jötnar as beasts and monsters."

Odin's eye is closed, head bowed.

"Get out of my sight," Frigga says, and silently, Odin goes.


	43. on raptors' wings

Title: on raptors' wings

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-film, AUish

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton

Wordcount: 330

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, I'm not a monster.

* * *

><p>Back before SHIELD, and after the army thing went sideways, before (and after) Hawkeye and after Barton, he ran with an assassin so cold it was his name - Winter Soldier. <em>Call me Winter,<em> the Soldier told him, _and I'll call you - well. What would you like?_

He wasn't Hawkeye. He wasn't Barton. He was angry and wanted to taste blood, so he told Winter, _Call me Raptor._

.

Raptor and Winter Soldier worked together for three years before SHIELD came calling and Coulson promised Raptor he could be more. Raptor looked past his shoulder at Winter, lining up the shot, and shook his head.

Winter nodded, took a step back, and vanished. Coulson didn't look away from Raptor - no, not Raptor anymore, _Barton _again - but his shoulder lost some tension, and he gave Barton a small smile.

.

It wasn't Hawkeye who hunted down and brought in Black Widow. Fury knew it, and Coulson, and Natasha Romanova herself, looking into his eyes and murmuring, _Winter_.

Raptor smiled at her, for a brief, heartrending moment, and then Hawkeye turned it into a harmless grin.

.

When Loki took Hawkeye as his own, it wasn't Hawkeye who planned the missions and attacked the Helicarrier. It was Hawkeye who allowed Fury and Hill to live, who let Black Widow beat him into the ground. It was Hawkeye who watched Thor take Loki home.

It was Hawkeye who went hunting Winter Soldier, but it was Raptor who found him.

.

_Yes? _Winter asked, sprawled over the couch of this week's hideout, raising an eyebrow at Raptor.

Coulson is dead. Black Widow wants atonement.

_Can I come home? _Raptor asks.

Winter smiles at him, eyes thawing just a bit. _Of course you can, _he says.

.

When Tony Stark hacks his way into the Avengers' latest mission, something about a Russian assassin named Winter Soldier, both Steve and Natasha let out small sounds of pain.

When Winter Soldier's partner's face shows up, Natasha bows her head, fists clenched.


	44. blue

Title: blue

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AU during Thor

Pairings: Odin/Frigga

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 250<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Thor, Loki + Odin, Odin gave Loki hugs as a child.

* * *

><p>His hands are blue. He stares at them, and then the blue crawls up his arms, and he's gasping, he can't breathe, he is <em>blue<em>-

And Father is there, and Loki looks at him, and Father's expression is sad. "Oh, Loki, my son," he says. He is not angry. He spent his fury on Thor, it seems, and Loki breathes slowly, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"Loki, I have moments before the Sleep is on me," Father says quickly, but calmly. "Please, can you last until I awaken? We have much to discuss." His words are clipped, but his hand is warm on Loki's blue skin (blue, blue, _monster_) and the blue recedes. Loki watches it vanish, watches his skin pale.

"Yes, Father," he whispers.

Father smiles, murmurs, "Good boy," and collapses.

Loki catches him, eases him to the floor. He glances at the Casket then his hands (pink, peach, _prince_), takes a deep breath, and calls for the guards.

.

When Mother tells him he is Acting King because Thor is still banished, Loki shakes his head.

"I cannot, Mother, not now," he confesses, hands latched together to stop the trembling. "I am not fit."

Mother's eyes are gentle. "Are you sure, my son?"

Her son. Is he?

He meets her gaze. "I will wait until Father awakens, Mother," he says.

"Then I must depart and be regent in your father's stead." Mother kisses his forehead and strides from the room.

Loki looks back at Father.

His hands tremble.


	45. This is the end of everything

Title: This is the end of everything

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: AU during film; character death

Pairings: implied Loki/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 510

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any(/any), almost doesn't count

* * *

><p>Clint almost didn't take the shot. He was aiming for mid-center torso, where he knew Fury had body-armor - and then the blue pulsed, as Loki of Asgard stumbled, and Clint's heart beat only for Loki.<p>

So he adjusted his aim and sent a bullet straight into Fury's remaining eye.

.

With Hill and Fury dead, Coulson was Acting Director. Half of the agents on the Helicarrier died either because of the explosions or the Hulk's rampage.

Clint killed many himself on his way to Loki's scepter, and when Black Widow got in his way, already wounded from the Hulk, he didn't pull his punches.

He spared her life once. But that was before his heart beat in time with Loki's, and they were on a timetable, here.

Clint could never beat Natasha in a fair fight. But neither of them has ever fought fair. She was a hair too slow and Clint's knife sliced across her neck.

He didn't look back as he left her bleeding out on the walkway.

.

The helicarrier crashed into the ocean and Clint piloted their stolen quinjet to New York.

With the tesseract, Loki opened the doorway and massacred the Chitauri army as it came through. Clint picked off any survivors.

"This is my world," Loki said, shattering the scepter and cradling the tesseract. Clint stood beside him, waiting for Loki's orders, and Loki glanced at him with a smile. "To think," Loki mused, making the tesseract vanish with a twist of his wrist, "you almost hesitated, my hawk."

"Yes, sir," Clint admitted. He could not lie to Loki. Would not.

"Let us go explore this realm of ours," Loki said. He looked at Selvig for just a moment, then at Clint. "No loose ends," he murmured, so Clint dealt with it, and then waited.

Loki nodded. "Let us depart," he said, and headed for the quinjet.

Clint followed, ignoring all the alien corpses littering Manhattan.

.

Acting Director Coulson reported to the World Council and found himself without a job.

After Bruce Banner woke up, he went back to running because he'd told them how badly bringing him in would go.

Thor could find no trace of his brother, and without the tesseract, he had no way of getting home, so he pledged himself to Coulson, even though Coulson had been removed from SHIELD. There was no one else on Midgard he felt trustworthy.

Steve Rogers stayed with SHIELD because he believed Loki's rampage to be his fault and saw no way to atone.

Tony Stark and Natasha Romanova both died on the Helicarrier.

And Loki planned and plotted and waited for Thanos to arrive. He'd point Thanos to Asgard first, and after Thanos burnt it down, he'd strike.

Clint built him a new army and killed whoever needed killing, and it honestly wasn't that different a life from what he'd had before. Definitely wasn't a bad one.

The blue pulsed in the back of his mind, and his heart beat in time with Loki's, and Loki smiled at him. It couldn't really get better than that.


	46. that heart whose fervour was all thine

Title: that heart whose fervour was all thine

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Warnings: post-film; the aftermath of mind control

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 100

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>In your dreams, he's always <em>Sir<em> and you're burning with need, with want, with a desire as deep as your bones.

In your dreams, you're drowning in blue, mouth open and eyes wide.

In your dreams, a door opens and the end of the world steps through.

In your dreams, he nods at you, holding out a hand.

In your dreams, you kneel, throat bared.

In your dreams, you're nothing but a weapon.

In your dreams, he says, _I'll return for you_.

In your dreams, you promise to always be waiting, ready for his command.

In your dreams, he smiles.


	47. You drive an angel from your door

Title: You drive an angel from your door

Fandom: Avengers/Highlander

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from William Blake

Warnings: post-Avengers; primordial!Methos; mentions of violence/gore

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 820

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers/Highlander, Odin + Methos, villains are those who oppose you

Note: _Valföðr_ means _father of the slain_

* * *

><p>"Hullo, Valföðr," the stranger says, slouched in Odin's throne.<p>

Nothing has been disturbed. No alarm has been raised. And yet there is a stranger in Odin's throne, and his fingers are splayed across Gungnir.

"Well met, stranger," Odin says, readying himself for whatever move he makes. "Who are you and how came you to be here?"

The stranger laughs. "You'd think language and culture would move with the times, Valföðr," the stranger sneers. "But you and yours are still stuck a thousand years ago. Explains the boy, at least."

Odin does not react, cannot. If this man is here for Loki... "Who are you?" Odin demands, every inch the king he has been since time immemorial. He is the All-Father, the most powerful warrior and sorcerer in nine realms.

(_Lie_, whispers a voice in the back of his mind. It sounds like Loki.)

"Who I am is of no consequence," the stranger snarls, lunging to his feet, fingers clenched around Gungnir. "What I can do is far more important, _little king _of petty children."

Odin's eyes widen. "How dare you come here!" he thunders, flinging his most powerful, dangerous spell at the man's face.

It hits the man dead-center and he doesn't react at all. "You should know better," the man says, calm and cold. Odin shudders; he remembers this man, remembers blood soaking into the ground, remembers a command that reverberated in his bones.

"You stole a child and raised him to hate himself," the man says, stalking down the stairs towards Odin. "You denied him when he needed you most, lied to him in every memory he has of you, and did not search when he fell into the void." Gungnir flashes, power building, and Odin tries to prepare a shield, but he cannot do anything except listen. "You let your All-Seeing Gatekeeper withhold information, told your firstborn half-truths to stoke his betrayed and despairing rage, and threw the child you stole into a cage without even asking why he'd done anything."

Gungnir rests against Odin's heart and he looks into the stranger's eyes. "So tell me, _little king_," the stranger croons gently, a blood-curdling lullaby, "what should I do with you?"

"I have done my best," Odin says, as strongly as he can.

The stranger laughs. Gungnir pulses and brilliant light flashes, and Odin screams –

He comes to on the floor of his throne room, Thor and his guards asking what has happened, if he's alright.

"Loki," Odin gasps, holding his chest. His heart aches. "Check on Loki, he came for Loki –"

Of course, Loki is gone. So is Gungnir, Sleipnir, and so is Mjölnir, whenever Thor thinks to call it next.

"Father, what happened?" Thor asks, standing in Loki's empty cage.

Odin closes his eye, feeling so very old, and replies, "I made a grave error, Thor. And an enemy."

(_Two enemies, little king_, a voice whispers, as cold and dark as the void. _Well done, Valföðr._)

"Will Loki… is Loki safe?" Thor asks hesitantly. "Is Midgardr?"

Odin flinches. Every accusation the stranger made… if Odin can rectify those that _can_ be rectified… "We must speak to Heimdallr," Odin says. "Come, Thor."

.

When Odin was young, having just ascended his father's throne, he fought a foolish war. It is not in any song, or history, or story told in Asgardr. It exists only in Odin's memory; he is the oldest in Asgardr. No one else still living was there to witness how he fell to his knees before his enemy. How he pled for his life. How he swore anything in his power, if only he survived.

His enemy laughed, and sliced Odin's cheek with the sharpest blade in nine realms. His enemy let him live, with a single command: _raise the child well, little king_.

Odin did not know which child, or why, or when.

By the time he found an infant in a temple on Jotunheimr, he had long since forgotten.

.

"What is your greatest desire?" Adam asks Loki.

"Thanos," Loki answers. "Thanos with his guts spilling on the dirt. His heart in my hand. His eyes, staring unseeing at the stars."

Adam laughs. "He seeks Death, doesn't he?"

Loki nods. "Thanos hopes to woo Death with the charred remnants of a thousand worlds."

When Adam finally controls his laughter, he says, "Then let him meet Death, boyo. I assure you – he won't regret the meeting for long."

Loki smiles at him, madder than a hatter, and Adam wishes he'd acted sooner.

But wishes are horses, and Death does ride, and their first stop is Thanos.

Their last stop will be Asgardr, and Odin will be king of all those slain.

.

There was one command given, on a bloodied field.

There was one command ignored, in golden halls.

The greatest villain is the one created by the hero's hand.

On a thousand worlds, the greatest villain of all is Death.

Death's fine with that.


	48. shall I bring you the sound of poisons?

Title: shall I bring you the sound of poisons?

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: AUish for Hawkeye's backstory; darkish characterization

Pairings: implied Coulson/Clint

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 810<p>

Point of view: second

* * *

><p>This is how you kill: easily. Aim. Deep breath. Release, or touch the trigger, or a well-placed punch, or the quick surety of a blade.<p>

That part doesn't matter. All that matters is the breath.

.

You refused to kill for Trick Shot or the Swordsman. You would have killed for Barney, but he ran without you and left you to the mercy of men you no longer respected and could no longer love.

You could kill for Uncle Sam, though. Cleanly, mostly. Quickly. Easily. It got easer every time, till it was just like taking a breath.

Inhale. Hold. Aim. Fire. Exhale.

.

It's not that you enjoy it. Not really. But it's easy like nothing else ever has been, and it's _yours_ in a way nothing else ever was. Your eyes, your hands - your choice.

It's your choice to follow the orders, every single time.

You went straight from the circus to the army to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. You've never made an unsanctioned kill, and you've killed everything you aimed at.

Well, that's not entirely accurate, is it? There's the Black Widow. And then there's Loki.

There's never been an order you didn't choose to follow.

_Inhale_.

You lie to the shrinks in the aftermath, to Tasha and Fury and everyone who asks, and everyone who doesn't.

_Hold._

You'd lie to Coulson, your handler for ten years, the only man in the world you trust, the only man in the world you respect, if he'd survived.

_Aim._

Loyalty has never been your strongest asset.

_Fire._

You don't enjoy killing, in and of itself. Or spying, or not existing on paper anywhere (the easier to disavow or make you disappear, my dear). You don't like being the guaranteed success of a mission because there is no shot you cannot make, and that's all anyone ever wants from you.

_Exhale._

.

This is how you walk away: midmorning, with nothing but your clothes. Pickpocket half a dozen pedestrians for cabfare, another dozen for lunch and a bus ticket. Avoid all cameras like the spy you no longer are.

You left the circus with three broken bones and authority issues. You left the army with record-breaking counts in everything and a well-deserved reputation. You leave SHIELD with no regrets because, well, you've never done regret. It's not in your nature.

Barney knew what you were. So did Trick Shot and the Swordsman, and Coulson, too.

And Loki.

.

There is a moment before you let go, before you touch the trigger, before you flick the blade, sharp and quick.

There is a moment, just a breath. You can change your mind. You can spare a life or follow orders. (Tasha. Fury. Hill.)

It's your choice every time.

.

This is how you choose: swiftly, between one heartbeat and the next.

Nothing is keeping you at SHIELD anymore. Coulson is dead and you don't trust anyone else. Tasha's debt to you was repaid when she cognitively recalibrated instead of killing you, so nothing ties you to her any longer.

You will not fight for anyone you do not respect or love.

There is no one on Earth you love. Respect... no, not anymore.

So. Why stay where you're wanted only for your impossible aim and well-deserved reputation? No one trusts you. Few of them like you.

Time to move on. And if they try to catch you, whether for charges or a second recruitment...

Well. That'll end poorly for everyone.

.

You don't regret any kill you've ever made. Each time was your choice; each time was necessary.

You are a killer. It's in your nature. And it's as easy as a breath. Easy as bulls-eye and letting go.

.

This is how you find what you've been looking for ever since the first bruise: _you have heart_.

But Natasha knocks the blue out of your head and the only way to stay free is to play along, and Loki is dragged back to his prison, taking the blue with him.

But he met your eyes, even hidden behind the shades. He met your eyes and tilted his head, and the blue whispered enticingly, swirling around in the back of your head, soft as a kitten and vicious as a tiger waiting to spring.

Killing is what you do.

Loki's man is what you are.

.

This is how it begins: you walk away, find a safe place, and wait. Your masters have always known what you are. If Coulson didn't tell Fury, that's Fury's problem. You won't obey him now, anyway.

The blue purrs to you. You settle down and count heartbeats, because your master'll be home soon.

.

This is how you kill: easily.

This is how you obey: always.

This is how you live: dangerously.

You have purpose. You breathe in time with Loki and your waiting is done.


	49. three meetings

Title: three meetings

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mentions of animal abuse, bullying, violence

Pairings: pre-Bucky/Steve

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 280

Point of view: third

Prompt: Captain America, Steve + Bucky, first meeting

* * *

><p>James Barnes and Steve Rogers met on a cold winter day, when Steve was about to get pummeled into the ground by a bunch of boys who'd been tormenting a three-legged dog and Jimmy (not Bucky, not for two more months) shoved his way to the middle of the confrontation and stared down the ringleader.<p>

After the boys dispersed, Steve glared at Jimmy and said, "I had 'em on the ropes."

Jimmy laughed, kneeling down to offer his hand for the dog to sniff. "Sure you did."

It set the tone for the rest of their lives.

.

Winter Soldier met Captain America on a dark winter night, when Captain America was separated from his team and Winter Soldier had orders to make a quick, clean kill.

It should've been quick, a distance kill. But part of Winter Soldier wanted to see Captain America's eyes, so he snuck in close, ready for Captain America's preternatural reflexes and strength.

Captain America spun to meet him and his eyes widened, his mouth opened, and he gasped, "Bucky?"

Winter Soldier recoiled, his body and mind both seizing, and then he ran into the night. Captain America tried following, but he got turned around in the brewing blizzard, and nearly froze again.

Iron Man found Captain America. A starving dog found Winter Soldier, and then Winter Soldier kept running.

.

Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers on a bright spring day two years after the Battle of Manhattan. Bucky had seventy years' worth of blood on his hands, and Steve had a blizzard's worth of regret, but they looked at each other, in the middle of the sidewalk, and Steve said, "Hey, Bucky."

Bucky smiled and said, "Hey, Steve."


	50. thou be once there

Title: thou be once there, thou mayst never more come here

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AU during the film

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 330

Point of view: third

Prompt: The Avengers, Loki & team, What if, when Thor asked Loki on the top of Stark Tower to 'stop the nonsense', he tried to halt the Chitauri invasion?

* * *

><p>He looks at his brother, at well-meaning, ever-baffled, beloved and golden <em>Thor<em>, the son destined to one day be king.

No matter what Thor does, he will always find himself worthy again. He will always be able to return.

Loki fell and was lost, and has been abandoned, fit only for punishment anymore. It matters not if Thanos arrives and Midgard burns; it matters not if Thor's little band of would-be heroes succeeds or fails. Loki has nothing and no one -

... except, perhaps, Thor. Thor who has never once looked at Loki and truly seen him, Loki who has been written off as the lesser, the supplanter, the liar and betrayer.

With Thanos' gift, Loki has control of each soldier, and he looks his brother in the eye as he kills them all.

With the Tesseract, Loki can destroy the gift and be truly free.

Let Thor keep Midgard and the mortals, Asgard and the people who never accepted Loki, even when he was one of them.

Loki has been cast out, all taken from him as he fell, as he was left to whatever fate the void gave him.

"As you wish, brother," Loki murmurs, and then he takes Thor's moment of confusion to throw Thor from the building. He must get to the tesseract and be gone from this realm.

He does not look back at the destruction, at Thanos' dead army, at Thor's newest band all converging towards him.

He does not look at Thor.

Loki holds the tesseract in his hand and feels a thousand new paths open for him. He smiles at the power coursing through him, opens his eyes, and takes a step.


	51. too blue

Title: too blue

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: shades of past mind-control

Pairings: Loki/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 260

Point of view: third

Prompt: The Avengers (MCU), Clint/Loki, the man who sold the world (David Bowie)

* * *

><p><em>Did you think to leave me so simply, little hawk?<em>

.

It takes months before the survivors stop side-eying him. He knows he'll never stop looking in the mirror and wishing his eyes were a different color. A nice dull brown, maybe.

His eyes are too blue.

.

_I was raised a warrior, Agent Barton, in a warrior culture. Does your spider not know that?_

.

Doctor Doom, the Fantastic Four's nemesis, threatens the world for whatever inane reason this week. More aliens pop in, different ones, and first contact goes swell. Iron Man and Captain America come to blows again.

Hawkeye kills fifteen people who needed to die. They're all sanctioned kills.

.

_I've but to ask you, dear one, haven't I?_

.

He dreams about Loki. They're not nightmares. He wakes up shaking, but it's want instead of rage, desire instead of fear.

… lust instead of regret.

.

_Come to me, Clint. You know where I am._

.

Hawkeye goes off-grid a year to the day Loki touched down.

Black Widow tears apart New York looking for him. She doesn't find him.

.

_Good boy, little hawk._

.

Clint's eyes are too blue. His god's plans are less chaotic and more focused this time, and he doesn't have the loyalty-stealing stick, and he settles in for a long-term stay instead of hurrying through things that are better left unhurried.

Every day, Clint wakes up beside him and thinks, _today I'll contact them_.

.

_You are mine, dearest. Your heart belongs to me, unto the very end._

.

Every day, Clint looks into the mirror and his eyes are blue.


	52. a good man

Title: a good man

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: temporary character death; violence/bullying

Pairings: implied Bucky/Steve

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 435<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers, Steve Rogers, The noblest question in the world is What good may I do in it?

* * *

><p>When Steve was eight, he got the shit beat out of him. He was on the ground, trying to protect his middle and his head, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't make a sound except gasps for air he couldn't get.<p>

And then it stopped. There were cries above his head, and shouts, and he uncurled a little to pull in air.

"You alright, kid?" a new voice asked.

Steve uncurled all the way and blinked up at his savior.

Jim Barnes was barely ten, but he was already gorgeous. He smiled at Steve and held out a hand and said, "Call me Bucky."

.

Steve never forgot. Bucky spent the next decade and a half pulling Steve's ass out of the fire, and he never asked for anything. He just wanted Steve safe and happy.

Steve tried to live up to Bucky's blind loyalty.

Bucky defended the little guy without a thought. How could Steve do anything else and still call himself a good man?

.

Bucky went to war and Steve followed as quickly as he could.

Bucky got captured and Steve let nothing stop him from saving him.

… Bucky fell and Steve crashed a plane into the ice.

.

Steve woke up in the future and looked for Bucky and couldn't find him anywhere. Because Bucky fell.

.

When Steve is twenty-eight (not counting the ice, because he doesn't), he is getting the shit beat out of him by HYDRA experiments (seriously, how are they still around?). He's on the floor, curled up to protect his middle and his head, because each experiment is as strong as him and there are five of them. He has broken ribs and he's bleeding too quickly for his healing to replenish, and his team is still hours out.

And then he hears gunshots. He turns his head to look through his arms as each experiment falls: five shots, five kills.

Hawkeye could do it, but Hawkeye isn't here.

Something drops onto the floor behind him. Mostly silent steps – intentional. To let him know where the shooter is.

"You alright, kid?" a voice he hasn't heard in two years (not counting the ice, because he doesn't) rasps.

Steve uncurls with a stifled gasp and blinks up at Bucky.

"I thought you were dead," he says blankly.

Bucky grins and holds out a hand. "I got better," he says, waving with his other hand – silver, metal. Something Tony might build. "C'mon, Steve. There's more where those fuckers came from and you need a doctor."

Steve almost passes out on the way up, but Bucky's got him. He's not worried.


	53. The world shall burn

Title: The world shall burn

Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Highlander

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: future!fic for Highlander; post-Avengers; primordial!Methos; very Loki friendly as he's my favorite

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 415

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, "Life _is_pain, [Highness]. Anyone who says differently is selling something." (Westley in The Princess Bride)

* * *

><p>He finds the boy in a cage, bound by iron and magic, bound by masks and years of self-hatred.<p>

There is fire left, yet, though, deep inside. Embers, barely sparking - but fire. The potential to scorch worlds, to raze realms to salt and ashes.

The start of Ragnarök, shackled like a common criminal and left to rot.

So very interesting.

.

He takes the boy, of course.

No one notices for months.

.

Healing is not instantaneous. Physically, the boy is a wreck, skin and bone held together by sheer hatred and innate magic. The boy has so much _potential_. He must have been breathtaking before. With care and time, he can be breathtaking again.

Mentally, the boy is curled inside himself, hiding somewhere deep inside, where the fire pulses. If he is sane, he's clinging to it by his fingernails, through pure determination. But he has not peeked outside to see that his circumstances have changed, but that's fine. Time is plentiful.

Emotionally… well, the boy was fucked up before being shucked into that cage and forgotten. He has been broken for centuries. No problem.

.

The boy blinks and raises his head. He waits to see what the boy will say.

"You are not Asgardian," the boy rasps. He startles when his magic responds to his call, twining around him, prepared to defend and strike.

He lets the boy keep it for peace of mind and comfort. "No, I'm not," he replies. "Do you know who you are?"

The boy nods. "I'm traitor," he answers. "Monster. Evil."

And, oh, but that _burns_. Burns like the heart of a mountain, deep and dark and _hungry_, for worlds, for lives, for the very fabric of being.

"No," he tells the boy. "You are not those things unless you wish to be."

"I…" The boy hesitates, glancing down at his hands, where the magic writhes, then to the sky. There are no walls or ceilings or doors here, unless willed into existence. No cages. "I am free," he whispers, and laughs, throwing his magic up and out, reaching for the horizon.

"Yes." He smiles, laughing as well, and holds out a hand. "I am Pietro," he says. "And you are?"

The boy smiles, wide and enchanting, and he clasps Pietro's hand tightly. "I'm Free," he says.

.

There a thousand worlds to see. Asgard is but a stone in a river, forgotten – except for hate, deep in the fire.

Ragnarök still burns fiercely, but there is time.

There is always time.


	54. code-switching

Title: code-switching

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AUish

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 105<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Loki +/ Thor, they play the hero-villain game very often and in every new world, they switch

* * *

><p><em>What do you want to be now, brother? <em>he asks before writing the runes on the wind.

_The arrogant princeling who must be brought low_, his brother decides. _And you?_

He smiles, sketching out the spell. _I'll be your nemesis, of course. The clever, misunderstood second prince._

His brother's grin is bloody and lightning flashes along his skin.

They have been heroes and villains and both and neither. They have been peasants and gods and kings. They have destroyed worlds and created nations.

Odin has no idea what grows in his wife's womb, or what he'll find in the ruins of a temple.

They always know.


	55. offering

Title: offering

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: future!fic; AU

Pairings: Thanos/Death

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 300

Point of view: third

Prompt: The Avengers, Loki & Thanos, "Our bodies are ours to break, ours to throw into rivers, ours to light on fire, ours to launch into the depths of space."

* * *

><p><em>What have you to offer?<em> he asked the godling huddled on cold rock.

_Only myself and the worlds I break_, the godling murmured.

_That is enough_, he said. _Rise_.

.

Fallen into the depths, abandoned and forgotten, lost, so lost - a worthy adversary, had things gone differently.

But things did not go differently and Thanos watched the godling's pain and fear and rage temper into a determination to burn down everything that had been for what would be:

Loki Odinson become Loki No-one-son, scourge of the cosmos.

_A worthy ally_, Thanos thought.

_The child is not your ally_, his love replied from a far off star.

_No,_ Thanos agreed. Tools are not allies - but they might eventually be.

.

Loki's one task on Earth (as they locals call it) was to open the door.

Three thousand Chitauri died, but that is their purpose.

The way was shut – or so the locals believed.

Loki returned to Asgard in chains, but Thanos' love was near enough to cradle his spirit, and that was enough.

.

_What have you to offer?_ Death asked the boy trembling in her arms.

_Only myself and the realms I slaughter,_ the godling murmured.

_Then rise, once-father,_ Death said. _Rise and be free._

.

Loki vanished from Asgard. By the time he returned, no one living on Earth remembered him as anything more than history.

_Remember what you promised,_ Thanos told him, hand-in-hand with Death.

"Brother!" Thor shouted at the head of Asgard's army, wearing his father's crown and carrying his father's spear.

Loki Odinson died when he fell, so Loki did not reply.

_Show us your worth, once-father,_ Death murmured.

Loki, scourge of the cosmos; Loki, bringer of Ragnarök.

"Brother!" Thor shouted again.

_Only myself_, Loki thought, _and it is enough_.

He closed his eyes and lit the fire.


	56. the light of the moon and stars

Title: who won by the light of the moon and stars?

Fandom: Teen Wolf/Thor/Norse myth

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Whitman

Warnings: identity issues; AU before The Avengers; future!fic for Teen Wolf

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1310

Point of view: third

Note: Váli&Nari don't exist; Jackson&Erica are part of Derek's pack

* * *

><p>There are things in the dark and they're calling his name. He listens because he can't turn off the sound.<p>

He doesn't answer because he knows what's out there. He doesn't answer for a long time.

He doesn't answer until the night he does.

The night he goes walking, eyes closed, and a path opens that wasn't there before, and howling follows him into the dark.

The night he meets a wolf larger than a mountain, and the wolf calls him _Father_, and he trails a fingertip along the sword jammed into the wolf's mouth.

The night he tears open a dozen lies and the tiniest of sparks explodes into a realm-eating fire.

.

_Rest_, he says, gently stroking the wolf's flank. _Your sister is coming to get you. She'll take you home._

_Father,_ the wolf rumbles. _Don't go back alone_.

He laughs, soft and bitter and ancient. _I'll be fine, little one_, he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of the wolf's nose.

.

On his way home, he meets a snake and a stallion, traveling together along the road. _Father_, the stallion says, tossing his head; _Hello_, adds the snake, twining around his feet.

_Boys_, he laughs. _Oh, you look so well_!

He stays with them for a ways, talking about nothing, but when the path forks, he goes left and they go right. _Your sister is taking your brother home,_ he says as they part. _I'll see you all there soon._

_Farewell, Father_, the snake calls, and the stallion adds, _Until we meet again._

_._

He stops at the door, one hand on the knob. Dad is asleep upstairs, dreaming about Mama. One of Derek's puppies is skulking about in the backyard; sounds like Isaac. Scott and Allison are sneaking around in the preserve, Boyd and Erica are curled up together in her bed at Derek's apartment, Jackson and Lydia and Danny are just getting back from a date, and Derek is patrolling at the edge of Beacon Hills.

Everyone is safe. Everyone is alive.

_And I'll keep it that way_, he promises.

His daughter, caressing his youngest son's muzzle, says, _It's not quite time, Father._

_I know,_ he whispers, and goes inside.

.

In the morning, Stiles Stilinski gets up, makes breakfast for him and his dad, and goes to school. At lunch, Boyd tells the rest of the pack about the weird smell Derek found; it started on Stiles' street, went a few yards, and stopped.

Stiles gives the wolves a hard time for failing at being bloodhounds; Allison says she'll ask her dad, if Boyd can describe the scent better. Boyd looks at her warily for a second before saying, "Salty, earthy, and icy, with a hint of ash. And blood. A lot of blood."

Allison nods. Lydia starts to tell her about the movie she and the boys saw last night while Isaac and Scott discuss lacrosse, and Jackson turns to Boyd to demand the key to the rink. Erica asks Danny a computer question and Stiles watches them all, smiling.

.

There is a woman wearing silver and black standing in his bedroom. _Father_, she says. _Are you rested?_

Derek and his puppies are out running. Danny, Lydia, and Allison are waiting for Stiles to grab his laptop before they head to Wolf HQ (or, as everyone else calls it, the Hale house, freshly renovated).

_I'm better than I have been since Baldr_, Loki replies.

Out in the forest, Derek howls because that odd scent is back, salt and earth and ice, ash and blood. Hooves are drumming, a serpent hisses, an icy wind roars, and a howl such as no earthly-born wolf could make fills the air.

And then all of it is suddenly gone. _Keep your brothers safe_, he says to his daughter. _Bar Niflheimr from Odin King, if you must._

_As you command,_ she murmurs, leaving as silently as she came.

Stiles grabs his laptop and hurries downstairs.

.

He didn't one day wake up remembering another life. There is no time he can remember where he didn't know it. He is Stiles Stilinski; he has also always been Loki Silvertongue. His mother was Ellandra Vukašin, the smartest woman in the world; his father is Alexander Stilinski, the best man he's ever known. He also never knew his birth-mother but was raised by the Queen of Asgardr and a succession of servants; he also killed his birth-father and was raised by the All-Father. He is an only child; he also once had a brother, whose shadow eclipsed him, no matter what he did.

He is a teenager on the cusp of manhood, wolf wrangler, A+ student, second-string lacrosse player.

He is a father, a god, hated, feared, fallen.

And now, at last, he is finally whole again, able to wield all the chaos in the nine realms. He is complete.

And were he not also Stiles, were he only Loki…

But his dad, and Scott, the pack and Derek…

He loves them as he once loved Thor, once loved Frigga, once wanted to love Odin and the Warriors 3 and Sif. He loves Beacon Hills and Midgardr as he once loved Asgardr.

Ragnarök is at his fingertips – but he must want to light the spark.

Loki… yes, mostly, if only for his children and nothing else.

But Stiles does not. Not yet.

.

He fell through the void, through eternity and the cosmos, and he landed in Ellandra Stilinski's arms, as a screaming infant, helpless and small. He landed, reborn.

Hel came to him that first night. She soothed him, cradled him, sang the songs he had once sung to her. _Rest, Father_, she said just before leaving. _Be at peace. It took everything you had to survive, and most of my magick, as well. Sleipnir, Jörmungandr, Fenrir, and I can wait. You must care for yourself now._

He couldn't speak, but he listened. He listened, and he waited, and he became Allandros Stilinski, beloved son of Ellie and Alex. He became Stiles, best friend of Scott; he became the second-in-command of the sorriest werewolf pack on Midgardr.

He will remain Stiles until every member of his family has passed on to Hel (he will let them go nowhere else), and then…

And then he will see how he feels about Ragnarök.

.

"Stiles!" Dad calls. "Dinner's ready, kid."

He goes downstairs, complains about school, tries to cajole his dad into talking about an open case, brainstorms a menu for the rest of the week, asks if there are any movies Dad wants to see.

It's a normal night. It's a good night. It's the kind of night he wants to keep, that he wishes he'd had more of with his own children. It's the kind of night he'll fight for, if anyone ever realizes he survived.

"Still goin' out with your friends?" Dad asks as they clear the table.

Stiles nods.

"Don't be out too late," Dad says. "It's a school night."

Stiles nods again. "Don't worry about me, Dad."

Dad laughs, shaking his head. "I'm always gonna worry about you, Stiles," he says fondly.

.

Stiles is a tiny little spark, a catalyst. He's got potential, sure, but he has to survive long enough to use it.

Loki is a wildfire, and he can burn down worlds. He probably will, one day, when he blinks and everyone he loves has died.

But until then, he runs with wolves, and he hides from hunters, and he looks after his dad, and keeps Scott from doing stupid things.

.

(Fenrir lounges by the ornate fireplace in the room Hel fashioned just for him. Sleipnir canters around the field Hel grew just for him, the only one like it in all of Niflheimr. Jörmungandr suns on the ice, half in the water. Hel finalizes the coup that will win her another realm.

Stiles sleeps and Loki dreams of fire.)


	57. the Master whispers down eternity

Title: the Master whispers down eternity

Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Earl Marlatt

Warnings: AU after Thor; mentions of post-apocalyptic rebuilding

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1235

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, the baby is a foundling and doesn't seem quite human...

* * *

><p>He finds the child on his daily walk through the nearest tract of Amazonia. The child is as pale as he is, which means he must not be a native of the jungle, and Ben stares down at him indecisively for a moment. This has been a quiet life, since leaving MacLeod in his dreary Pacific northwest town, and does he want to deal with the drama of finding a white child in the wilds of the Amazon?<p>

The child babbles something at him, eyes as green as the jewels Ben wore lifetimes ago, and Ben stoops to gently pick him up.

Life was getting boring anyway, and no one within a thousand kilometers questions anything he does. He is either a ghost or a god, and either way, he is left alone.

.

Ben names the child _Adam_ because it amuses him. Adam grows slowly, far slower than any other child Ben has ever raised, which only confirms what he's suspected since he found the boy.

The first time Adam changes his shape, it's into an anaconda, and he doesn't turn back for three days. Ben treats him exactly the same and Adam laughs once he's a boy again. The second time, he becomes a toucan; the third, an ocelot. Ben never reacts except to congratulate him.

Adam calms down when he realizes that no matter his shape, he is Ben's son.

.

Adam is 23 and looks around 10, and he asks Ben, "You don't age right, either?" because Ben looks exactly the same as when he found the boy in the jungle.

"I will never age," Ben tells him. "And I don't know how old you'll be when you stop."

.

Mentally, Adam is far older than his body. Ben gives him a millennia-old library and the entire internet, and sometimes, can barely stay ahead of the boy. They spend weeks at a time lost in the jungle, stalked by predators few humans have ever seen in person, and Adam builds up his shapes.

Adam is 45 and looks barely 18 when he asks, "What am I?"

Ben isn't entirely honest when he says, "I don't know," and when Adam opens his mouth to demand another answer, Ben adds, "But you are my son."

A jaguar screeches to the east, so they continue walking, spending the rest of the day in silence.

.

When Adam is 50, he asks to travel, so Ben packs everything up and they head northeast. Ben bypasses North America entirely for Europe, where they continue east all the way to the Pacific. They spend a decade wandering, and look like brothers instead of father and son.

Adam stops aging around the mortal age of 25; when Ben asks, Adam shrugs and says it's what he decided.

.

"How old are you?" Adam asks when he is 100 and aliens from outer space have plunged Ben's world into warfare.

They are back at the Amazon (_home_, Ben thinks, like the Fertile Crescent once was, like the plains of windy Troy, like the great isle that sank beneath the waves so long ago), watching humanity struggle. Their jungle is protected, and all the mortals who flee there, though not many do.

"Very," Ben replies, strengthening his protection spell. Adam's eyes flash that brilliant green as he adds his own power to it.

.

Thanos, like all would-be conquerors, is defeated. But Ben's world must rebuild or the next would-be conqueror might get lucky.

"What do you think?" Ben glances at Adam, who has a sloth in his arms and one of the native children at his side. The entire jungle holds its breath, the old magicks waiting for Ben's word, the very ground trembling.

"This is our world, is it not?" Adam asks rhetorically. "You, the ancient; I, the foundling. This world is our home."

"Yes," Ben murmurs.

Adam adds, "We protect what is ours." He smiles at Ben, handing the sloth to the child. "You taught me that, Da."

.

When he steps out of the jungle, Ben ties the sigil to his own quickening. So long as he has his head, the Amazon will still be safe. Adam is a boa twined around his upper body and Ben quickly transports them to the heart of the rebuilding effort, in the ever-resilient city of New York.

The aesir have offered their aid, and Ben remembers well the last time he met one of their kind, in Oslo, during Hardrada's rule. Their leader now is tall, blond, and blue-eyed, and he carries a hammer Ben knows well.

Captain America, still as youthful as ever, and the Hulk represent humanity, and SHIELD, though weakened, commands what forces are left to Earth.

Ben appears in the midst of a quarrel, Adam looped around his shoulders, and waits to be noticed.

He is not impressed when it takes an hour.

.

When Thor Odinson, Captain America, and Smith, current director of SHIELD, ask for his name, he says, "Lífthrasir Nanashi."

Thor booms, "Well met!"

Lífthrasir smiles at him and knows that Odin Borrson would've questioned him further, especially with that name – but, then, Odin knows prophecy and once met a sailor who blinded the son of the sea.

But Thor's attention is elsewhere, and Lífthrasir is too useful to turn away, and when Adam shifts back, his eyes flash as he hisses, "_Thor_," low and cold and vicious. He turns quickly to face Lífthrasir and shifts into his female shape, and tells Lífthrasir, "My name is Pan."

Lífthrasir nods. "C'mon," he says. "Our assignment is this way." Pan follows with a single glance thrown over her shoulder at Thor and avoids the godling for the rest of their time in New York.

.

MacLeod is helping to rebuild the Pacific coast. Most of the immortals in the western hemisphere have flocked to his banner, because what is the point of winning the prize in a ghost world?

Lífthrasir leaves him to it, traveling with Pan to Rome, at the behest of SHIELD.

.

Pan is 120 and looks barely 25, dark hair piled on her head and skin tanned by the sun, eyes poison-bright, when Thor stares at her for almost an hour before stuttering out, "Lo-Loki?"

Lífthrasir stands beside her, everything in him waiting for her play, and Pan straightens to her full height (still a head and a half shorter than Odin's son), and she says, "Loki died when he fell from a bridge."

"Please," Thor says, "Loki, I do not understand – we have thought you dead for –"

Pan interrupts, voice strong, to say, "Loki, child of no one, _is _dead, son of Odin." She smiles, suddenly, brilliantly, adding, "I am Pan, I am Adam, and I am the child of legend."

Lífthrasir laughs, loud and long, and pulls Pan close for a hug. "You are, as ever, delightful," he murmurs into her hair. When he catches Thor's bewildered expression, he laughs again.

.

"You remember now?" Lífthrasir asks while Odin strides toward them, his retinue falling further and further behind.

"I remembered when Thor set foot on this world again," Pan answers.

"What do you want, child?" Lífthrasir glances down at her; she is still so young, still that boy he found in the wilderness.

"You are the ancient," Pan says, "and I am the foundling. And this world is ours."

"Exactly so," Lífthrasir murmurs, stepping forward to meet the All-Father, his child beside him.


	58. stars that shoot along the sky

Title: stars that shoot along the sky shine brightest as they fall from high

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Lord Byron

Warnings: spoilers for Avengers movie; Odin's A+ parenting

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 545

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Thor + Loki,

i_And like a blind hammer/i  
>iThat destroys what it can't seei  
>iTear down the walls of progressi  
>iAnd spit on our ancestryi_

* * *

><p>When they are yet children, huddled together on Thor's bed, Father's final words about frost giants and kings echoing in their ears, Thor whispers, "We'll be warrior kings and all the realms will look at us in awe and fear."<p>

"Yes," Loki agrees, but he looks at Thor and he sees a golden future - and when he looks at himself, he sees nothing at all.

* * *

><p>When they are grown, Loki tumbles through the abyss and Thor paces at the edge of the world.<p>

When they are grown, Loki is hidden away in a cell and his name cursed in three realms.

When they are grown, Thor's future is golden indeed, while Loki's is grim and full of grief.

* * *

><p>"Brother," Thor says, on the cusp of manhood. "When I am king, you will be my counsel and right hand."<p>

"Of course, brother," Loki replies. Thor's friends already look at Loki with dislike, and Father's own council mutter about pranks and twisting words when Father is not present.

But Thor's future is still golden, and Loki's harder to find each day.

* * *

><p>Frigga glances away from the loom while Loki flips through a book he's read before and Thor laughs with the Warriors 3. Sif sharpens her blade, eyes on Loki.<p>

"Oh, my sons," Frigga murmurs, "I am so very sorry." But she cannot warn them.

All of the futures are clear to her, but she can never speak of what she sees.

* * *

><p>When they are grown, Thor stares at Loki through a glass wall, spelled to be nearly as strong as Mjölnir. "Are you yet tired of brooding over me?" Loki asks, head tilted insouciantly and lips twisted that damned annoying smirk.<p>

"I'm waiting for the brother I knew to return," Thor says quietly.

Loki laughs, "Then you'll be waiting until Ragnarök, and perhaps even after."

But Thor only smiles at him until Loki narrows his eyes, because Loki could have killed him in New York and barely tried. "I'll keep waiting," he promises. "Until Ragnarök, and perhaps even after."

Loki looks away and says nothing else, but Thor has hope and knows that the child he still loves so fiercely is in there somewhere, and he has finally learned patience.

* * *

><p>Frigga closes her eyes and turns from the loom, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, my sons, my sons," she cries.<p>

"My lady," one of her handmaidens calls, rushing over, but Frigga pushes her away. The handmaiden sees nothing on the loom but cloth, and so would Odin –

But Frigga sees a golden future for both her children and cannot speak of it.

* * *

><p>When they are children, Loki shows Thor every spell he learns, every trick he tries, every illusion he masters.<p>

When they are children, Thor teaches Loki every form of warfare their father insists he learns.

They both attend lessons on history and battle tactics, on statecraft and kingship. In everything, they are equal, two princes, brothers. Thor is older by a mere year, which matters little to either of them.

After all, their father promises they both will be kings, one day, when they are grown.

But they are children, yet, and Thor laughs at Loki's pranks, and Loki follows Thor into all sorts of trouble, and the future is eons away.


	59. You're, I very well know, not there

Title: You're, I very well know, not there

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov

Warnings: ALL THE SPOILERS for Thor: The Dark World. ALL OF THEM. Mentions of violence and character death.

Pairings: Jane/Thor

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1355

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>"You seem weary, Allfather," the einherjar says.<p>

Odin cannot recall the warrior's name, if he ever knew it. "Weary, yes," he murmurs. Frigga. Thor's betrayal. And now, Loki has died as well. And Malekith – Odin felt the destruction of the Aether. Thor has found the strength of will to do what his father and grandfather never did: the threat is gone.

Turning from the einherjar, Odin summons the captain of the palace guard. "Release my son's companions," he orders. "When Thor returns, he is pardoned, as are they."

"Yes, Allfather," Tyr says, bowing as he leaves.

Odin glances at the einherjar. "Have you brought my son's body back for honoring?"

The einherjar lowers his gaze. "Your son, Allfather? I saw only the corpse of a traitor and so I left it there for the scavengers."

Odin glares, hefting Gungnir, preparing to punish the einherjar when the einherjar lifts his head, smirking.

"You should rest, Allfather," Loki says gently, his seidr bearing down on Odin with a strength Odin knows he didn't have before he fell. "You have not slept in so long - _rest."_

Odin stumbles backward, slouching down onto the steps. He should call his guards, should defend, should – but he is so weary. Frigga is dead. Thor doesn't trust him. And Loki… Loki –

Loki kneels beside him, still disguised as an einherjar but for his face. "I would ask you so many things, Allfather," he whispers, fingers loosely wrapping around Gungnir, "but I cannot trust your answers. Know this, though, Odin, King of Asgardr – your realm will be in the best of hands." He smiles. "On Midgardr, they have a practice called 'controlled burning.' Do you know it?"

"Loki, please, my son," Odin mumbles, but Loki presses a fingertip to his lips.

"Shush, Allfather," Loki says gently. "You are so weary. You must rest." He smiles again, leaning down to whisper directly in Odin's ear, "Mayhap, my king, you'll never wake." His smile broadens, showing all his teeth.

"Loki," Odin tries again, but the Sleep is upon him and he sags into Loki's arms.

.

Loki kneels on the steps beside the Allfather, staring down at the ás he could never please. He sends an illusion of the einherjar out, warning the guards that the Allfather did not want to be disturbed until Thor returned.

The Allfather slept deeply; clearly, he had not resumed his broken Sleep after Loki fell. Maybe Thor had been right, when he claimed they had mourned Loki.

No matter. Asgardr's palace brimmed with traitors. Those outside the walls might grant Loki a chance but those inside were too like Thor's oathbreaker companions. Like Heimdallr.

He, too, had been pardoned by Odin.

But Odin Sleeps now, and he is so old. So frail. So _weary_. He must have undisturbed quiet so that he can heal.

First the Void and then the Aether – Loki has no equal, now. Never has a seiðmenn had so much power.

Thanos is still coming for Asgardr. The vault is full of the greatest artifacts of all the realms. Loki Liesmith died a hero.

Loki has the throne of Asgardr.

He stares down at the mighty Allfather, reaches out to stroke a careworn cheek, and with all the love of a dutiful son, sends him to a cave deep in the heart of Muspelheimr's oldest mountain. Odin will wake locked away from his seidr, from Heimdallr's gaze, from any living thing. He will slowly starve, and be lost to madness, and he will scream for Loki's mercy before he finally succumbs. And from Hliðskjálf, Loki will watch.

He _is_ a monster, after all,

"Sleep well, Allfather," he laughs, pulling on Odin's form and slowly walking up the dais. He stares at Hliðskjálf for a long moment before calling Gungnir to his hand and making himself comfortable on the seat he had never been destined for.

No, he does not a want a throne, and never has. But he has no desire to live in a realm of barren and burnt out husks, either. He hates Asgardr, but he hates Thanos much more.

First, he must allow the aesir to rebuild what Odin's folly destroyed. Then, he will begin to clean up the refuse, starting with Thor's tag-alongs.

The realms are dangerous, and without Loki charming the natives, sooner or later the Warriors 3 and Sif will start a fight they are incapable of winning. Odin should have punished them – but, of course, crimes are not crimes if committed against Loki. Two kings, now, they have betrayed; by right, they should be executed.

But they are heroes. So they will die _adventuring_, bringing _peace._ Peace. Loki shakes his head in disgusted amusement. Warmongering savages. Why did he spend so long preserving their lives?

No more. No matter. He will watch from his throne as they die.

And Heimdallr… he is resuming his post. He is scouring the realms to see if Loki survived, for he will never trust in Loki's death. If anyone could discern Loki's true face beneath Odin's mask, it would be Heimdallr.

And, quite honestly, Loki can't bear the thought of Heimdallr breathing the same air as him.

The Aether roils through Loki's blood and twice now, Heimdallr has betrayed Gungnir's bearer, so Loki murmurs a command not used since Bor's time, millennia ago.

By the end of the month, Heimdallr will be dead. Thor will have returned to his mortal. The Warriors 3 and Sif will be traveling through the realms again.

The first spark is lit.

Odin spends much time in the weapons' vault. His people understand – he grieves his wife and his sons. He is solemn, now, and sad. Many residents of the palace and surrounding mansions are ill; the healers suppose it is the presence of the Aether and the Dark Elves. Only a few die, but Odin keeps panic from spreading.

Odin is beloved, and Thor more beloved still.

.

Loki sits on Hliðskjálf, Gungnir in hand, and watches his not-father beg for mercy, voice barely audible.

Let him beg. Odin's mercy was tempered by Frigga, but Loki's mercy died under Thanos, and he smiles as the life leaves Odin's eye.

Loki turns his gaze to Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, and Sif, in the midst of yet another battle. Thor is accompanying his woman to a conference on the Midgardian sciences. Thor's human companions are enjoying a calm dinner.

Thanos is approaching and Loki has mastered all of the artifacts his not-father collected over the eons.

Loki has ruled for but a single year. Odin has never been more loved.

It is time, then, for Odin to die so that Loki can be discovered as a prisoner on some far-flung world just in time to save all the realms.

"I am weary, Tyr," Odin confides in the captain of his guards. "I must Sleep. Oh, but how I miss my wife!" He laughs sadly, clapping Tyr on the back. "She would have bade me Sleep long since hence."

"Shall I send word to Thor?" Tyr asks at the door of Odin's chamber.

"He will come out of honor and duty," Odin says, "but I'll not shackle my son to a throne he hates." Odin sighs. "My wife's sister-son is a good man; he will be regent while I rest."

"Of course, Allfather," Tyr says. "I'll inform the counselors."

.

Baldr _is_ a good man. But he is not a good king. He is gentle and kind and freezes when hard decisions must be made. He undoes all of Odin's work inside a month. But Odin fades away while sleeping and is mourned in all the realms.

A year after Baldr takes the throne, Loki is found in the aftermath of a battle on Múspellsheimr. He is barely alive. They rush him back to Asgardr because everyone knows what happened with Malekith, and Baldr sends word to Thor.

.

Thor weeps when he lays eyes on his brother.

Since Thor still refuses the throne, Baldr steps down in place of Loki.

Loki settles onto Hliðskjálf, Gungnir in his grasp, and watches Thanos. The Loki that landed at Thanos' feet no longer exists and the wildfire is burning.

Everything has gone according to plan.


	60. from her husband's hand

Title: from her husband's hand her hand soft she withdrew

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: spoilers for Thor 2

Pairings: Odin/Frigga

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 345

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, she has waited so long for revenge

* * *

><p>"Is it all you wanted, All-Father?" she asks, stepping out of shadow as the door closes behind the only child of her womb.<p>

"They grieved for you, my queen," the boy says, letting his illusion fade, "as I'm sure they never grieved for me."

She smiles, looking around at the repairs, at Hliðskjálf. "Has Gungnir given you any trouble?" she asks.

"No, Mother," he says as he stands. "I have won your throne."

She smiles at him, this child not of her womb but of her heart, of her siedr. "Come," she says. "Show me where he is."

His smile is just as cold, just as bright - the smile for courtiers, as she taught him while the child of her womb played at warriors with his friends.

Eight thousand years ago, her late husband's father fought a war. Four thousand years ago, she was born to her late husband's enemies. Three thousand years ago, she allowed her late husband to think he had won her loyalty.

One thousand years ago, her late husband came home with another king's child and told her to raise it.

(_It,_ he had said. _Make it useful, make it loyal, make it ours_.)

"Mother," the child of her heart says, clutching her hand.

"My son," she says.

Oh, yes. Asgardr is hers, at last. "Show me to my late husband," she murmurs, "and then the Gate Keeper is yours, to do with as you please."

His grin is as cold as Jötunheimr's winter, but his eyes as bright as the first time he mastered one of her spells. (_Her_ spells – Asgardr had never seen such seidr as the queen wielded. Another warning that went unheeded.) "Yes, Mother," he says.

Gungnir obeys the strongest; Hliðskjálf accepts the mightiest. Her late husband never truly understood the magick.

Because she still loves the child of her womb, she allows him to keep the hammer, though it will never attack the child of her heart again.

She cannot wait to look her late husband in the eye and give him her mother's smile.


	61. from the ashes, a fire

Title: from the ashes, a fire

Fandom: Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Tolkien

Warnings: AU after The Dark World; implied violence/death

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1320

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Loki, "Mischief is a small thing, a toy i have used and discarded. This isn't mischief. This is mayhem."

Note: this started out a completely different fic and then got away from me.

* * *

><p>There once was a boy who played tricks because it was the only time anyone acknowledged him. He could have lost himself in the library, in the ancient histories and forgotten magicks – but he wanted companionship. Father was busy with ruling, Mother with the smaller details, and Thor with his friends. And so Loki went unnoticed except by librarians and historians who shushed him when he asked questions because for all his untapped genius, he <em>was<em> but a boy.

What everyone forgot until it was too late is that boys grow up into men.

.

There once was a boy who watched his older brother approach the throne with an arrogant tilt to his head, a smug grin twisting his lips, shoulders revealing his belief that he'd waited too long for his due. Everyone cheered, as they always did, no matter what Thor did.

There was sadness in Mother's smile, apprehension in Father's eye, but Thor never noticed. Those small details, easily missed, proved Loki right in not calling off his trick.

.

There once was a boy who fell from a bridge. No one sought for him. No one found him. Very few mourned him.

He landed in nothing and nothing happened there.

(The boy has always been a skilled liar.)

.

There once was a boy who tore open a hole in the sky. His older brother fought him, without once asking why he did such a thing, and then dragged him before the throne in chains. Not even Mother asked him why he'd done any of it, or what happened after he fell, or expressed relief that he lived.

Those large details, not easily overlooked, only proved to him that he – as always – was on his own.

.

There once was a boy who mourned his mother. Thor pretended that Loki didn't, but Thor is a skilled liar, in his own way. Thor's friends betrayed their king for a second time, as did the gatekeeper, but who kept count? Certainly not Loki.

The greatest trick of all is convincing an entire sky of stars that you're dead. Loki managed it twice.

.

There once was a boy who sat on a throne he'd never wanted, wearing a face that he abhorred. He'd always practiced small magicks, minor tricks, illusions. But as King of Asgardr, he wielded the ancient magicks. Thor's oathbreaker friends kept policing the realms; the traitorous gatekeeper watched the cosmos. The people of Asgardr never questioned their king, no matter what he did.

So he fell into the Sleep and there he died.

.

There once was a boy who walked along a road, smiling as he hadn't in centuries. What is the true face of Loki, son of no one? Not even he knows.

What face shall he wear? He decides when he wakes, and never the same twice. War rages as the nobles of Asgardr battle for a throne, as the other realms try for their own piece, as Midgardr makes itself felt for the first time.

Loki, son of no one, is dead. But Loki is a common enough name, if he wants to keep it. Does he?

What if some nobody from some backwater town on some small planet begins to make a name for himself, rallying his kin and clan to battle? As they win, honorably, sparing their enemies and fighting in the name of peace?

No tricks. No traps. And if the nobody is gifted with small magicks, well… everything starts small, after all.

Better still, what if the nobody is the only survivor of the small backwater town? And he fights with honor still, oh such a good man, that nobody. Yes. His tiny wellspring of magick saved him, and now he uses it to defend others, and if he happens to turn the tide of the war?

What might the reward for such a man be?

.

There once was a boy who ruled honorably and well. The people loved him. He came from some little village on Múspellsheimr, the only survivor, and by the end, Múspellsheimr was his for all the people clamored for him to rule. From Múspellsheimr, he ventured to Vanaheimr and Niflheimr, taking by force only to give it back once peace fell. His armies marched from one side; Asgardr's and Midgardr's from the other. In the middle they met and wrote a treaty that all the realms signed.

"And who are you?" the King of Asgardr asked, Midgardr's representative nodding.

"I am Fenrir of Múspellsheimr," the champion of three realms said.

The King of Asgardr held out a hand. "I am Thor, son of Odin. This is my shield-brother, Iron Man of Midgardr."

"Let this peace be long-lasting and prosperous," Fenrir said, and they set to work making it so.

.

There once was a boy overlooked by all unless he did mischief. He grew to be a man overlooked by none, a man adored and worshipped, a man beloved by nine realms.

"We have much to thank you for," Thor, King of Asgardr, told him one night, well into his cups, centuries into the cosmic peace. "I shudder to ponder what might have been, had another led your army."

"Another could not have," Fenrir assured him, smiling just a little.

Thor peered at him curiously. "Sometimes," he said, "sometimes I almost think – but no. No, he died long ago." He turned his stare to his mead, shaking his head. "Long ago," he repeated softly.

"Who?" Fenrir asked softly, gesturing away the guards. Kings should not be heard when they spoke of secrets, of fears, of regrets. And here, in the heart of Múspellsheimr, there was no danger.

"I had a brother, once," Thor said, slamming down the mug. "We were just boys, and I don't – I think of it often, and I don't know what I could've changed."

"I had a brother, too," Fenrir murmured. "He was golden and I stood in his shadow, always."

Thor glanced back up at him and Fenrir shook his head, chuckling. "It doesn't matter now, my friend. But you, I think, have enough drink for this night."

The Lord of Múspellsheimr escorted the King of Asgardr to one of the guest beds, tucked him in, and then, when Thor was mostly asleep, pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. "Sleep well, brother," Loki whispered, wearing that face of centuries ago for one heartbeat.

The following afternoon, the representatives of all nine realms met to discuss the great threat coming: Thanos the Eternal.

.

There once was a boy who stood at the head of the greatest army ever gathered. Beside him stood the King of Asgardr.

"If we are to die now," Thor told him without turning his head, "I want to die knowing that you know this: you are Loki of Asgardr, as you have always been. As you will always be."

For the first time, Thor had surprised him. He turned to face his ally, his friend, mouth open in shock, and Thor simply met his gaze calmly. "I mourned you once, brother. I refused to do it again. And then I saw you, cloaked in another face, with the fire of Múspellsheimr behind you – you lived, and you prospered, and I knew that I could not… I could not ruin it for you, as I had ruined everything else."

Fenrir's face fell away to be that boy Thor alone remembered. "If we are to die now," he said, "know this: I never hated you. I only ever wanted to stand beside you as your equal. To counsel you, to guard you."

"I know, brother," Thor said, pulling Loki into his arms for the hug he'd been craving since Loki fell on Svartálfaheimr. "We are equals," he murmured. "And if we die here – it shall be side by side."

Loki laughed, pulling back Fenrir's face as he took his place again. "Come, brother," he said, eyes on Thanos. "We've a war to win."


	62. Your first words have yet to be said

Title: Your first words have yet to be said

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elton John

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2: Winter Soldier; identity issues

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 255

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "It's never too late to be who you might have been." - George Eliot

* * *

><p><em>Your name is James Buchanan Barnes<em>, the target said. _You've known me your whole life._

_Then finish it,_ the target said. _Cause I'm with you to the end of the line._

James Buchanan Barnes, says the Smithsonian, was a good man.

The asset is not.

The asset is a weapon, nothing more than a gun or a knife. The asset has no opinions. The asset has no fear. The asset does not hurt, or weep, or pray –

The asset does not dream of falling, of _Bucky_ being shouted and swallowed by the wind, by the snow, by the ice. The asset _does not_ dream.

There are no handlers, now. No one to hold the weapon. No orders.

The asset – without his handlers, what is he? Who? The _Bucky_ that the target called to so plaintively? _James Buchanan Barnes_, hailed as a hero by the museum?

The asset failed in his final mission; the target fell, and the asset plunged after him, pulled him from the water. The asset _chose_.

But weapons have no opinions. Whose weapon is he, now?

_Then finish it,_ the target said. But the asset could not.

_Cause I'm with you to the end of the line,_ the target said.

Staring at his own face, reading a biography that sparks nothing in his mind, the asset makes another choice.

Bucky Barnes is dead; he died saving Captain America. But James Buchanan Barnes? Whoever he is? Maybe the asset can try to be him, whoever he might be.

(That night, James dreams of falling.)


	63. I loosed a dove

Title: I loosed a dove

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2: Winter Soldier

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 110

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, a visceral reaction to a fear he/she doesn't understand

* * *

><p>The asset is falling.<p>

No, the asset cannot be falling.

He is awakening – the lights are bright, the handlers with their firm touches, too-tight grips (the asset is an asset and must be treated as such, what is kindness, what is kindness) (-_Bucky_)

The asset's eyes adjust and he obeys their commands, confirms the mission, eliminates three targets, returns to his handlers, gives his report, and obeys their commands.

The asset is falling.

He cannot be falling – he sleeps without dreams, always, and he is an asset. Assets have no weakness.

.

(The asset watches his target fall.

The target is falling.

_-Bucky-_

The asset lets go.)


	64. To sail beyond the sunset

Title: To sail beyond the sunset

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Tennyson

Warnings: AU after Avengers; mild language

Pairings: Bucky/Steve is my default but this could totally be gen, too

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1450

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers, team, there's a "Meet the Avengers" day down at city hall. Shoot an arrow with Hawkeye, check out Iron Man's suit, get Captain America's signature! Basically the team dealing with kids/rabid fans. :)

* * *

><p>After the events in New York, there is a lot of damage control. Hawkeye and Black Widow go off the grid in order to hunt down the various enemies of SHIELD that Loki had gotten together, Iron Man focused on rebuilding on a large scale, and the Hulk disappeared (and Dr. Banner with him, of course).<p>

But Captain America went out to volunteer at a different site in New York every day. He didn't dress like Captain America, but nobody could forget that face.

It took time, but as the rest of the Avengers trickled back, things were looking up. And it was Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, who had the idea of a Meet the Avengers Day.

…

He's been calling himself James, though it doesn't feel quite right. He's been calling himself James for three years, eight months, two weeks, and a day. Before that, he was simply the asset.

He doesn't like to remember the days Before James.

Like the rest of the world, he watched the alien attack on New York with wide eyes. "What in the fuck?" James muttered.

It was the red-haired woman he noticed first, and she seemed familiar. But the man dressed like a flag – James just watched, mind completely blank except for one thing: _I know him. I know him. I **know** him._

The reporter shouted as shrapnel flew her way, and while James heard the entire sentence, he only listened to _Captain America_. It jarred something in his head, something he avoided thinking about because it was from Before James.

While the rest of the world watches the clean-up in New York, James programs the DVR to record anything that mentions Captain America and goes to the internet for research. Researching Captain America leads him to the Howling Commandos, which leads him to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America's best friend.

"Well," he mutters, staring at the picture, "guess I know why I chose James."

Sergeant Barnes was lost mere days before Captain America went down with a plane that would've fucked the United States to hell and back. Captain America was believed dead until the alien invasion in New York, and how he's returned is something everyone has opinions on but no hard facts.

James watches the official footage and the shaky phone videos, and he _knows_. He knows Captain America, but that doesn't feel right. He reads, rereads, rereads again the official biographies, the historical record, the conspiracy theories, but it's when he sees a picture of Steve Rogers from before Captain America – something sparks in his mind and he blacks out for over an hour.

He's been James for three years and nine months, and the asset for 70-some years before that, when he remembers being Bucky Barnes for the first 26 years of his life.

.

He's living in a tiny little town in Connecticut. He has efficiently dealt with 18 attempts to reclaim him. His former masters believe him to be across the world. His neighbors believe him to be an honorably discharged marine with a prosthetic hand, his original lost in the line of duty. He mans the front desk of the apartment complex as a security guard and knows the position is one of pity.

His name is James. He has been alone since he ceased to be the asset, but he knows now that he was alone then, too.

(When he thinks about Before James, he knows that he had nearly escaped four times between Bucky and James. The programming was faulty – or the trigger was simply that strong. He does not know what triggered the breaks, only that he spent a long time sleeping after each.)

He's living in a tiny little town in Connecticut and he remembers Brooklyn. He remembers hunger, and long winters, and a fragile chest coughing up a lung, and _I had him on the ropes_, and _I'm with you to the end of the line_.

He remembers war, and pain, and _I thought you were dead_, and falling.

He remembers the asset, and he remembers when he chose to be the asset no more.

He remembers Captain America.

He remembers Steve Rogers.

.

Everyone in the world is watching New York, talking about aliens, making plans for when it happens again. Captain America (and the Avengers) are now worldwide heroes.

Captain America goes out every day to help clear rubble, and there is no one protecting him. He leaves his back wide open.

James leaves his apartment with nothing but a bag of weapons and locks the door behind him.

.

"What the ever loving fuck," James says flatly when his Google Alert on the Avengers announces Meet the Avengers Day. "Are you fucking _serious_?" he demands because, really? "_Really_, Steve?"

No one in the subway car gives him a glance as he growls down at his phone. Steve's already a target, does he ihave/i to go make himself a bigger one?

James scrolls through the rest of the alerts, shouldering his bag to allow a woman the seat next to him. It's been a year since the last attempt at reclaiming the asset, but some skills never rust: he is the only person trained for combat in the car, and one of three to have killed. The woman has just been fired from her job, and her spouse has been giving her a hard time.

If James were still Bucky, he'd try to make her feel better. As it is, he focuses on his phone and allows her to cry in peace.

.

Meet the Avengers Day is in two weeks. That gives James ample time to prepare.

…

_Shoot an arrow with Hawkeye_! shout the ads, the commercials, the billboards. _Check out Iron Man's suit! Learn self defense from Black Widow! Try to lift Thor's hammer! Get Captain America's signature!_

A few posters on the SI forums are disappointed by the lack of the Hulk, but Pepper doesn't wants to risk it. Besides, Bruce refused when Tony tried to guilt-trip him into going. They'll all be suited up, and they'll be at the park all day. SHIELD and SI will both have eyes in the sky and security primed, but, honestly. With 5/6 of the Avengers there, who'd be stupid enough to try something?

"You just jinxed us," Tony informs Clint. Clint shrugs.

.

As the day gets closer, Steve starts to feel a little paranoid. He keeps turning around, _knowing_ that someone's watching him, but while there's always a crowd and people staring at him, it's never the gaze he felt. He doesn't mention it because he knows there are cameras pointed at him 24/7 and maybe that's what he's feeling.

On Meet the Avengers Day, he's honestly a little excited. It's just like the USO tour, and while he hated it at the time, he's a bit nostalgic. Tony's in his element, of course, wowing the crowds and feeding off their awe. Natasha's smile is so good that even Steve can't tell if it's fake or not. Clint focuses mainly on the kids and pulls out all his trick shots. Thor regales a wide-eyed audience with tales of Asgardr, most of which involve his brother (not that anyone on Earth outside of SHIELD knows that Loki led the invasion).

And Steve just talks to people, listens to them, signs whatever they put in front of him, smiles for the cameras. The world is a much scarier place now that everyone knows there actually _are_ aliens – and this is the Avengers' chance to show that they're _not_ scary, and they _will_ protect it. These people are exactly who Steve fought for against the Chitauri, against Red Skull, who he will always fight for.

One of SHIELD's agents bring him a hamburger and chili fries for lunch, and that's when he feels the eyes again. He tries to glance covertly around while simultaneously eating, chatting with a shy little girl, and signing her brother's Captain America poster, but there are literally Ithousands/i of people watching him, not to mention cameras for hundreds of networks all over the world.

After he thanks the little girl, her brother, and their grandmother for coming out, he rises to his feet and goes into the crowd to wander around, trying to pinpoint where the gaze feels the strongest. He still doesn't mention it to his team because he doesn't want to ruin the event.

He's in the middle of Central Park when he hears the voice behind him say, "You're still too dumb to run away from a fight, aren't you, Steve?"

It's impossible. He turns slowly, eyes closed, but the voice continues, "I told you we were going to the future."

He opens his eyes.


	65. the kind you stop

Title: the kind you stop

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Cap2

Warnings: spoilers for Cap 2

Pairings: gennish

Rating: PG

Wordcount:145

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, love means you risk getting burned.

* * *

><p>Director Fury, Natasha, Sam, Agent Hill – they all warn him that there might not be anything left of Bucky to save. Steve knows that's not true; he'd have drowned if it was.<p>

Sam tells him gently that even if the Winter Soldier can be salvaged, Bucky Barnes might be gone forever. Even if that _is_ true, Steve wants to get to know whoever the Winter Soldier will become.

He doesn't tell any of them that he's done fighting against the Winter Soldier. He let Bucky fall, and while he slept in the ice, Bucky was tortured and brainwashed and turned into a weapon without a choice. But he _chose_ to pull Steve out of the water. He _chose_. And if he finds him only for the Soldier to complete his last mission…

That's a risk he's willing to take for the chance to see Bucky again.


	66. No color in the Rainbow

Title: No color in the Rainbow perceive, when you are gone

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dickenson

Warnings: Spoilers for Cap2. Suicidal thoughts. Steve has PTSD and is also probably clinically depressed.)

Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 185

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Steve, wrath is my sin

* * *

><p>It's simmering beneath his skin, has been since he woke up (<em>has been since Bucky fell, Bucky fell, Bucky <em>_**fell**_), and he smiles for them, for SHIELD, for the cameras, for the people who follow him around the (_enormous_) stores and watch wide-eyed as he buys things he doesn't need.

He is so _so __**so**_ angry, and he doesn't know how not to be.

He felt relief as he fought the Chitauri, whenever SHIELD has a mission for him, whenever he runs so fast his lungs cramp like they haven't since he was 95 lbs and 5 foot 4.

But when there's nothing to do, when he's alone in his head, he can feel it simmering.

And then there's Bucky, and there's Hydra (_cut off the heads and cauterize the stumps, raze it all to the ground, __**burn the ashes**_), and for one glorious moment, Bucky screaming at him, Bucky hitting him so hard he feels it in his soul – he feels joy, all the way down into the ice, and knows everything might finally be right, even if it kills him (_please let it kill him_).


	67. all coming back to me now

Title: all coming back to me now

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from a song

Warnings: Spoilers for Cap2. All quotes from either it or First Avenger

Pairings: Definite Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 180

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, it was lost long ago but it's all coming back to me now

* * *

><p><em>Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back<em>, his voice says.

_How can I?_ Captain America's voice says back. _You're taking all the stupid with you._

He is sitting in an abandoned building in Virginia, eyes closed, straining what little memory he has. He remembers missions, handlers, how to kill and how to hurt, how to evade authorities, how to pretend to be harmless, how to pass unseen. He remembers how to speak eighteen languages and read five more.

He does not remember what he likes, how food tastes, if he ever enjoyed anything at all.

He does not remember Captain America, but Captain America had said, _You've known me your whole life_.

_Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back_, his voice says.

_How can I?_ Captain America's voice says back. _You're taking all the stupid with you._

His memories cannot be trusted; he knows he has been wiped and remade. Who is he? Who was James Buchanan Barnes? Captain America loved him.

Captain America loves him still.

He lets his head rest against the wall and keeps trying to remember.


	68. I would change for you

Title: I would change for you but, babe, that doesn't mean I'm gonna be a better man

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from "Sleep All Summer"

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2

Pairings: gennish

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount:<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky, sleep all summer.

* * *

><p>Bucky Barnes died when he fell; Winter Soldier is his grave.<p>

Steve flinches when he says that, but James knows it's the truth.

He is not Bucky Barnes, can never again _be_ Bucky Barnes, but neither is he the asset anymore. The Winter Soldier died when he went into the water after Captain America; James (whoever James is) is the Winter Soldier's grave.

"I'm doing this for me," he tells Steve, "not for you," and Steve smiles at him.


	69. supplication of a dead man's hand

Title: supplication of a dead man's hand

Disclaimer: not my characters; all quotes from the movies; title from TS Eliot

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2

Pairings: gennish with Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 285

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, _"don't go where I can't follow"_

* * *

><p><em>Don't win the war 'til I get there<em>, he said, and then he became a supersoldier, and he performed like a dancing monkey, and he thought he was 'doing his part' for the war, and he hated it, he _hated every last second of it_, but he was doing his part, and -

The 107th was captured, Bucky was _dead_, but he couldn't, how could he accept that without any proof? Of course he couldn't (_you're taking all the stupid with you_) (_I'm with you to the end of the line_) so he found Bucky (alive) and tore the base down around him, and he was finally doing his part, finally doing good -

And. And then.

And then he couldn't reach far enough and Bucky.

Bucky.

Throwing himself after Bucky would be spitting in Bucky's face, would make his sacrifice worthless, and he needed to tear Hydra down and burn it all.

(He could have escaped the plane.

No, he couldn't have.)

He wakes up and they tell him they won the war.

He wakes up and aliens tear open the sky.

He wakes up and there's still battles to fight.

He wakes up and Hydra's still alive.

(He wakes up and Bucky's looking at him with blank eyes, Bucky's attacking him, Bucky's shooting him, Bucky's stabbed him.)

(He wakes up choking on water, and he knows he couldn't have gotten himself out of the river.)

There's only one battle left for him. He's given enough of himself and he refuses to dance to anyone else's tune anymore.

_When do we start?_ Sam asks and Steve looks down at the file.

He let Bucky fall once. Bucky pulled him out of the river.

_Right now_, he says.


	70. (his)story

Title: (his)story

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2

Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 475

Point of view: third

Prompt: story

* * *

><p>The books don't mention how cold the winters were, both in Brooklyn and in the war. Steve Rogers' story always starts in Camp Lehigh, even the biographies. Maybe a paragraph of his childhood, but then it takes off at Camp Lehigh and ends in the ocean. It starts with Erskine.<p>

_**No**_, the man who is now James thinks, looking at a picture of himself in _Captain America: The Legend_. That is not where the story starts.

He doesn't remember much, the man who has called himself James for 25 days. _Your name is James Buchanan Barnes_, Captain America told him. The name means nothing to him, but he takes it. It is better than _Winter Soldier_. Better than _Asset._ Better than nothing at all.

He remembers the past 25 days. He remembers the museum, the helicarrier. He remembers his mission, and choosing not to carry it out.

He remembers Captain America.

The history books start at Camp Lehigh, where Captain America learned to be a soldier. They talk about the procedure in New York, his USO tours, his first attack on Hydra, where he rescued over 400 prisoners, including his best friend and future second-in-command, Sergeant James Barnes. The man with James' face.

_You've known me your whole life,_ Captain America said. _I'm not going to fight you_.

The winters were cold, and there was never enough food. More than once, he stayed up praying to Steve's god because Steve was too good to die like that.

James stares down at his own face in black and white. That is not the asset's memory – of Steve straining to breathe, of his own voice cursing at God.

_You're my friend_, Steve Rogers told him, letting his shield fall.

James Buchanan Barnes died for Steve Rogers. He fought and killed for Steve Rogers. He picked Steve Rogers up and dusted him off, and stood between him and harm for 20 years, and most of the books gloss over that. Captain America's story starts at Camp Lehigh and ends in the ocean.

"You're my mission," James tells Captain America's picture. He closes the book and tosses it on the pile with the other lies.

Bucky Barnes died in 1944. The asset died in 2014. But James is still alive, and so is Steve Rogers. Bucky never trusted anyone else with Steve's care, and there is no one better than the asset.

Steve Rogers is searching for his friend. SHIELD has been torn down, but Hydra is still reeling in its death throes.

Seventy years. There is much James owes Hydra.

The stories are wrong. Captain America's story began on a sweltering summer day when he tried to fight three bigger boys to protect a dying dog. Another boy, not yet Steve Rogers' friend, got involved because he didn't like unfair fights. And Captain America's story has yet to end.


	71. pencil and paper

Title: pencil and paper

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 185

Point of view: third

Prompt: rose

* * *

><p>He sketches when he can't sleep. Sometimes it's how he remembers New York, or the Commandos, Peggy, Howard. Sometimes it's the Avengers, the Chitauri, Loki and his horns, modern cars. Sometimes it's the war.<p>

Sometimes, it's a pair of hands he knew better than his own (before and after the serum), or eyes, cheekbones, lips curved in a cocky smirk, a torso and back with scars he knew every story for, powerful arms that could cradle him once. He never sketches all the parts together. He never says the name that went with them.

Until. Until the mask falls off of Fury's killer.

His whole world has fallen to pieces again. He doesn't lift a hand to protect himself from – from Fury's killer or the traitors. He has to, he has to –

_Bucky_. Bucky is alive. Bucky's in the enemy's hands again.

Well. He didn't destroy Hydra last time; he put a plane in the ice instead, leaving the clean-up to people he trusted. This time?

This time he's burning it to the last root and bringing Bucky home. And he doesn't care who gets in the way.


	72. the little guy from Brooklyn

Title: the little guy from Brooklyn

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: takes place before Cap2

Pairing: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 160<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: profligate

* * *

><p>Steve, who remembers going to bed hungry and cold for most of his life, cannot get used to the extravagance of the new world he wakes up to. What shocks him the most, though, are all the people still suffering – still going to bed hungry and cold.<p>

At first, it saddens him. But then, after the Battle of New York, when his face is broadcast across the world, when people realize that Captain America is back –

He's _famous._ He's in the history books. He's a living legend. He's never wanted to be, but he _is_.

It's another kind of war. So he asks JARVIS and Miss Potts for help on finding resources and he starts planning his battles. He's just a little guy from Brooklyn, and he doesn't know how to back down, and there are too many people who wake up every day expecting to die, with no one fighting in their corner.

Well. They have Captain America now.


	73. the weapon with no name

Title: the weapon with no name

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: Spoilers for Cap2. Mentions of torture/brainwashing/violence

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 625

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any vs any, the origin of a grudge

* * *

><p>There is a weapon with a title but no name, and he is a powerful weapon indeed. He is the greatest weapon ever built by Red Room, and when Red Room fell, he was sent to Hydra rather than be destroyed.<p>

Let Tony Stark have his Jericho Missile, his Iron Man suit – just as the Winter Soldier once killed Howard Stark, Howard Stark's son would be no problem at all.

.

There is a weapon with no name, and he is awoken only for the greatest of targets. He has caused wars, terrorized nations, wiped out bloodlines.

(He has done _none_ of that, Captain America will say in a few years' time. _He_ did none of that. The weapon (given a name at last) will not believe him.)

There is a weapon with no name, and he is awoken to kill Fury, Nicholas J., Director of SHIELD.

There is a weapon with no name, and he is sent to kill Captain America and the SHIELD Agent Black Widow.

There is a weapon with no name, but –

_I knew him_, he repeats to himself as his handlers order him wiped. _I knew him_.

.

There is a weapon with a name. As he fights Captain America, as Captain America keeps talking, as Captain America falls into the water - _James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. All your life. My friend._

There is a weapon with a name and he plunges into the water.

.

There is a man reading a museum display about himself. He could kill everyone in the building in under ten minutes, if ord—no, if he _chose_. He chooses not to.

There is a man in a stolen hoodie and stolen baseball cap, hands in his pockets, his metal fist clenched.

There is a man whose identity was taken from him. Who was turned into an unstoppable weapon and set loose, loyal only through torture and mindwipes. That is no loyalty at all.

There is a man somewhere looking for him. A good man. The best man.

There is a man who watches the old videos, who looks at the pictures, who wonders – once, he loved Captain America. That much is obvious. No, he corrects himself, staring at his own face smiling so wide, so true. James Buchanan Barnes loved Steve Rogers. Enough to die for him.

Enough to break through Winter Soldier to save him.

.

There is a man with a name. He is still the greatest weapon ever built by Red Room, still the best weapon Hydra ever wielded.

Red Room was dismantled, but Hydra… Hydra still wants Captain America dead, and James Buchanan Barnes has all of Winter Soldier's skills, and love enough to defy death.

_Cut off one head_, he thinks. The weapon had no knowledge of mythology, and Bucky Barnes hadn't cared much for book learning, but James decides to study while he builds his strength back up. Heracles killed the hydra by cauterizing the stumps as he cut off the heads.

James is going to tear the remaining cells down and burn it all until nothing is left, not even ashes.

.

There once was a weapon whose name was taken from him.

Loyalty under duress is no loyalty at all.

James remembers being a child and defending another boy, who grew up into a good man, the best man. James remembers loving Steve Rogers before he even knew what love was.

He has never been worthy of Steve's love in return, he always knew that. But he protected Steve, from bullies, from cold, from enemy combatants, from death itself. He was good at it when he just a man; he's the best at it, now that he has 70 years as the weapon's experience to draw on.

He goes hunting.


	74. turnabout's fair play

Title: turnabout's fair play

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2; mentions of death/violence

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 340

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any, Try not to get killed this time

Notes: This is set after Avengers 2, so they're all one big happy family.

* * *

><p>"We have got to stop meeting like this," Bucky says as he picks the lock on the shackles holding Steve down.<p>

Steve just blinks at him, head lolling to the side. "You're drugged," Bucky says. "Okay. Shit."

Something explodes to the west; Bucky didn't set any charges there, plus his still have four minutes to go, so that must be Steve's team. In the wake of - _everything_, Steve had decided they should all work together more often, and when Bucky remembered enough, he was glad of that. Steve needed the best watching out for him.

"C'mon, pal, time to get up now," Bucky said, pulling Steve to his feet. He staggered into Bucky, mumbling something unintelligible, and something else exploded. "Steve, hey, Steve," he says, gently patting at Steve's cheek. "Steve, you with me? We've got to go."

Steve mumbles something else. So far, Bucky is not impressed with the Avengers' Steve-wrangling ability. He steps towards the door, towing Steve with him, and shoots the five minions he sees in the hall.

Something roars; there's another explosion. Three more minions go down, though only two to his shots. "Hawkeye?" he calls without stepping into the hallway. "Widow?"

"Who the fuck are you?" demands a rough voice. Hawkeye, then. Someone the Widow trusts implicitly, which is a very short list.

"I'm – I was Winter Soldier," he calls. Steve lists to the side, so Bucky catches him again. "I've got Captain America here, but he's too drugged to fight his way out."

A very charged silence is filled with more minions. Fuck, how many of them are there?

"Get him out of here," Hawkeye orders as the minions fall to both a hail of bullets and arrows. "If you do anything to hurt him –"

Finally, Bucky's charges go off. "Just burn this place down," Bucky shouts over his shoulder, guiding Steve towards the exit.

If Hawkeye replies, it's lost in the screaming.

"Just like old times, eh, Steve?" Bucky asks.

Steve's answer is to trip over air, so yeah, it is.


	75. Never gonna hold the hand of another guy

Title: Never gonna hold the hand of another guy

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Travelin' Soldier by The Dixie Chicks

Warnings: takes place post Cap2

Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 230

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, Travelin' Soldier

* * *

><p>In storage somewhere, in a museum famous the world over, there is a packet of letters written home. They all start with, <em>Hey, Steve<em>, and end with, i_'ll see you soon, Bucky_.

In the packet next to it is another bundled bunch of letters. They all start with, _Hey, Buck,_ and end with, _Don't worry about me, I'm doing fine, Steve_.

Bucky's letters to Steve never made it to him because he'd been living at Camp Lehigh, not in their Brooklyn apartment. Steve's letters to Bucky chased him around Europe, and were then forgotten after Steve's dramatic rescue.

The letters were carefully kept by Gabe Jones and Peggy Carter, and then finally donated, when the first talk of a Captain America exhibit started up. There was such a wealth of information, though, and the letters were a bit personal, even with how both men must have censored themselves, since the letters would be examined by authorities before being sent on.

When they pull Steve from the ice, the curator thinks about offering the letters back to him, but then the Battle of Manhattan, and then HYDRA –

Well. There are more important things to worry about than 70-year old letters in storage.

But then Bucky Barnes is back from the dead, and he's standing beside Steve Rogers, and the curator pulls those packets of letters out and mails them home.


	76. a good man to be

Title: a good man to be

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: Spoilers for Captain America 2.

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 235<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, _let's think romance and I'll be someone else_

* * *

><p>Bucky Barnes loved Steve Rogers enough to come back from the dead and rip through the Winter Soldier to save him.<p>

Steve Rogers loved Bucky Barnes enough to break into Hydra with barely any training, on the off-chance that he might still be alive. Enough to drop his shield and stop fighting because being dead was better than being without Bucky for one moment more.

Bucky Barnes is _dead,_ but so is the Winter Soldier, the Asset, the weapon that Hydra created with Bucky Barnes' corpse.

So who is he now?

… who does he want to be?

His parents called him James. His masters called him nothing at all. His handlers called him the Asset. His enemies called him the Winter Soldier. His unit called him Barnes or Sarge.

Steve called him Bucky.

Bucky Barnes is dead. So is the Asset.

But Bucky rose long enough to save Steve Rogers, so maybe… maybe he can try to be Bucky again. If Bucky had earned Steve Rogers' love, he must be a good man to be.

Bucky steps out of the Smithsonian into a bright noon-day sun and walks towards the street. It is a new world. A world without masters, without handlers, without orders, without missions. A terrifying world, yes, but also…

A world with Steve. He's done shaping the century. It's time to live.

He'll kill anyone who gets in the way.


	77. straight on 'til morning

Title: straight on 'til morning

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from _Peter Pan_

Warnings: pov from a depressed, somewhat suicidal person; spoilers for Captain America: Winter Soldier

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 235

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any _second star on the left and straight on til morning_ Peter Pan

* * *

><p>The stars have yet to change, when he can see them. At first, that is all he can remember - looking up at the night sky, counting the stars. Giving them new names, new stories, the sickly boy who became a beyond-healthy man listening, curled up next to him.<p>

He leaves the city for the quiet, and he lies out at night, and he watches the stars. He eats when he can, drinks water from streams and ponds, avoids people. His not-arm isn't doing too well, but he doesn't care. It's not a part of him. It's a part of _them_, and while he thinks, sometimes, that he should rip them to pieces, burn them into ashes, crush them to dust... most of the time, he just wants to sleep or watch the stars.

He is so tired. So tired. He doesn't - he doesn't have the words for the feelings, still isn't quite sure what feelings _are_, but whenever he looks up at the night sky, it calms him.

There are people looking for him, either to help or to harm (or to reclaim, to unmake, but he will die before he lets that happen again), but no one is looking out in the quiet, in the woods.

He is hungry, and he is tired, and he hopes, sometimes, whenever he falls into restless dreams, that he just won't wake up.

But he always wakes up.


	78. welcome to the future

Title: welcome to the future

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2; depression

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 140

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any,

_I have seen birth, I have seen death  
>Lived to see a lover's final breath<br>Do you see my guilt? Should I feel afright?  
>Is the fire of hesitation burning bright?<em>

* * *

><p>Everyone is so sorry. They apologize, offer condolences, promise to give him all the time in the world to adjust -<p>

And then there are aliens attacking. Then Fury gives him missions, and what else does he have to do? What else _can_ he do?

But then - then -

_Bucky._

_Who the hell is Bucky?_

He's been going on missions for Fury, and he fought the aliens because how could he not? But _this._

"I didn't know about Barnes," Fury says, and Steve believes him. That doesn't matter. He's tearing the whole thing apart and burning the pieces, rooting out every last shred, and there is _nothing_ that will stop him.

_You're my mission_, Bucky's ghost says, and Steve doesn't fight back.

There's nothing without Bucky.

(He wakes up in a hospital bed and knows there's something of Bucky left.)


	79. I seek some nobler hero's name

Title: I seek some nobler hero's name

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Lord Byron

Warnings: past abuse, identity issues, everything that Winter Soldier implies, takes place after Avengers 2 so they're all a happy family at Avengers Tower, spoilers for _Little Women_

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Jane/Thor

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1950

Point of view: third

Note: thanks to my baby sister for help with Tony Stark

Prompt: any, any, "You do know 'Oi, you!' is not my name, right?"

* * *

><p>For months, he doesn't respond to his name. He's a ghost in the Tower, seen out the corners of people's eyes, there for a moment and then not.<p>

Steve is the only one who calls him anything at all, and no one knows if that's wrong or not. There's so much none of them know; the whole thing is a puzzle of guesswork, and they're some of the smartest people in the world, but this is...

Sometimes, Bruce has to remove himself from the situation because his eyes are glowing green. Sometimes, Tony locks himself in his lab and builds and builds and builds until his mind finally quiets. Sometimes, Natasha and Clint spar for hours, or Pepper buys herself an entire store's worth of shoes, or Thor stands on the roof, shouting at the sky. Sometimes, Sam sits them all down and tells them to do their best, and then explains what that might be, and then he drags Steve to the Met, or the park, or the dog adoption fair at wherever it is that week.

And through it all, he's a ghost.

.

But he begins to react when words are directed at him, and it's not with a flinch, or to look away, or to make himself smaller.

It hurt all of them, the way he never moved to defend himself if he was conscious at the time. Any self-defense, it was always when he was asleep, or coming out of one his memory flashes. But never if he was entirely conscious. Never if he was aware.

(Clint shot arrows till his fingers bled, till Tasha dragged him away from the range.)

But one day, Bruce asked the table in general for the salt, and from his seat beside Steve, staring down at his plate, eyes wide with awe that he got to eat, he picked up the salt with his flesh-and-blood hand, and held it out to Bruce.

And they all wanted to cheer, but none of them made a sound as Bruce gently took it from him with a soft, "Thank you."

He didn't look up, but he also didn't shrink in on himself, and Steve's grin was one that they'd only ever seen in black-and-white footage.

.

Natasha is in the common area, watching Scooby Doo and eating cookie dough ice cream, when he sits down on the other side of the couch. She gives a sideways glance and a small smile so he knows she knows he's there and then waits a few minutes to offer him the tub of ice cream.

He shakes his head sharply and focuses on the screen, where Fred is declaring who the episode's villain is. (He is, of course, wrong.)

When Shaggy makes his usual inane comment, he huffs at Scooby's reaction and Natasha smiles down at her ice cream.

The episode ends and he stands, but Natasha says, "It's a marathon, if you'd like to stay and keep me company."

He fidgets in place before sitting back down, slightly closer.

She offers the ice cream again, four episodes later. This time, he takes it.

.

Clint's at the range, trying out Tony's latest arrow upgrade. Between one shot and the next, he's no longer alone, but Clint doesn't react because Natasha's been sneaking up on him for years now.

(He's aged ten years since they met. She hasn't aged a day. They never talk about it.)

"So, I've heard you're one of the best," Clint says conversationally. Sergeant Barnes had been one of the best snipers in the US forces, that's down in the history books. "But I'll bet you a bag of chips that I'm better," he finishes, sending the arrow straight into the center of the target.

No response, but he watches out the corner of his eye as fingers, both flesh and metal, brush over the rifles he's got lined up on the table. When the fingers grip one of Tony's experimental rifles, Clint bites down his smile and launches into the spiel Tony had given him about it.

Clint's better, but not by much, and only with his bow and arrow. He actually manages to eat the entire bag of Fritos before, between one chip and the next, he's alone in the kitchen.

"You totally taught Tasha that trick, didn't you?" he asks the air, chuckling.

.

Bruce is reading the dissertation of one of Stark Industries' interns, making notes in the margin, when he realizes that there's someone browsing the bookshelf in the corner. He's curled up in a comfy chair in the 'library,' as they've taken to calling the room where Tony banishes all of the books, the room with the second best natural lighting in the Tower (after Steve's studio). He doesn't startle because he's trained himself not to (dangerous, so dangerous); he just takes a deep breath and then exhales the shock and sudden burst of fear.

"They're organized by when they were placed here," Bruce announces into the still air. "If you're looking for something in particular, I could probably help you find it."

He glances at Bruce through the curtain of dark hair, turned so that he's neither facing toward him or away – and then he turns himself so that his back is fully towards Bruce.

Bruce blinks at him, mouth dropping open at the blatant display of trust. He wants to dance around the room, wants to shout it at everyone – instead, he takes another deep breath and smiles down at the dissertation.

When he glances back up, he's alone in the library, and _Little Women_ is missing from the bookshelf.

.

It is raining as Thor thinks of his brother. Jane is beside him on the bench, tucked beneath the poncho, but neither of them speaks. He knows that there is no one who mourns as he does; too many have forgotten the boy Loki once was.

There is so much he would do differently, if he could go back.

And then, there he is at the edge of the roof: Steve Rogers' brother. Jane gasps a little at the suddenness, but Thor had heard him coming. "Welcome!" he calls through the rain.

"Could you please step back?" Jane says. "Please? It's… it's a long fall." She is tense beneath his arm, ready to spring forward though she could never be fast enough.

He steps back, giving them a glance over his shoulder; as ever, he does not speak. He has not spoken since he followed Steve into Stark's tower. Steve's stories of their youth rival a few of Thor's own, and according to those stories, he is a better brother than Thor ever was.

"Thank you," Jane sighs, leaning into Thor's side with relief.

His lips twist in what could be a smile as he tilts his face towards the sky.

Thor rests his chin on Jane's head, letting his thoughts turn again towards Loki. He is happy that Steve has a second chance with his own brother, but sometimes is also quite jealous of Steve's fortune. But he smiles as the rain begins to lessen, and when Jane asks, "Hey, where'd he go?" he laughs.

.

Tony's been locked out of his lab by Jarvis at Pepper's request (56 hours is not that long a time, okay?) so he ambles his way to the nearest kitchen, making memos of what else to do with his current 34 projects, when Cap's buddy steps out of the corner, a sheet of paper held gently in his bionic fist.

"Heeey, there, buddy," Tony says, immediately ceasing all movement.

He holds the paper up, so Tony's gaze goes from his face to the paper and then back before he reaches for it. He blinks at the designs on it: random ideas for arm upgrades, a few quick sketches to make it more comfortable, ease of movement, nothing all that fancy (no matter what Captain No-Fun says). This particular group, he remembers sketching at a very boring meeting, when he'd left his tablet in bed with Pepper. He'd wondered where that notebook had gone before it completely slipped his mind, oh, two weeks ago? Yeah, two weeks ago. Huh.

"So, you like these, huh?" he asks, glancing up. And, hey, no shock: the guy's gone again. Like a ghost. Tony carefully folds up the paper and puts it in his pocket. "Jarvis, make a note: arm upgrades, to the top of the list."

.

Steve sleeps and dreams of Brooklyn at the height of summer, stretched out with the windows open, wearing only shorts. He's 9, he's 14, he's 21 – and Bucky's always with him.

He wakes to a shadow sitting beside him, legs crossed, watching him. "Hey, Bucky," he says, rolling over to put a hand on Bucky's knee.

There is no expression on Bucky's face, but both his hands are in plain sight and his body isn't coiled tightly. He finally says, "Beth died." His voice is as emotionless as his face, but his right hand clenches into a fist. "Why did she die?"

These are the first words Steve has heard Bucky say since the helicarrier, and Steve has no idea who Beth is, but Bucky continues with, "She was sick all the time, and she was – she was a good person." He looks away from Steve, face crumpling. "Why'd she die?"

"I don't know, Bucky," Steve says, slowly sitting up. "Why don't you tell me about her?" He maneuvers himself carefully until he's sitting knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder with Bucky, and he listens as Bucky tells him all about four sisters who lived out their lives, and he leans in close, offering support, when Bucky's voice shakes when he talks about Beth.

"I kept picturing you, in my head," Bucky confesses, letting his hair fall into his face, trying to hide.

Steve had already figured that out, but he just wraps an arm around Bucky's shoulder and says, "You ready for breakfast?"

Bucky nods, so Steve stands and pulls Bucky up with him.

.

His parents called him Jim and his sisters called him Jimmy. Most days, he remembers that. All of his friends but one called him Jim, too, and his coworkers called him Barnes. Everyone in the army called him Barnes, and then he was a subject until he became an asset, and then sometimes he was the soldier.

"Bucky?" Steve had said, and that was enough. A name. "James Buchanan Barnes," Steve had said, his shield falling into the Potomac. "My friend."

Most days, he remembers. And even on the ones he doesn't, Steve's there to remind him.

.

"Hey, buddy," Tony calls, striding into the common area. "Buddy, here! Heel!" He looks around for their resident ghost, ignoring Bruce's shocked expression and the disapproval on Jane's face.

"Bucky," a voice says behind him, and he spins in place, tripping on his own feet.

"My name's Bucky," he says again, "but only Steve gets to call me that."

Tony finds his balance, backing up out of reach. "What do I call you, then?" He ignores Bruce and Jane's muffled laughter, making a mental note to have Jarvis delete that footage later.

"James," he says. "Call me James."

Tony nods. "I finished the upgrades you wanted. You willing to come to my lab for 'em?"

James makes a fist with the metal hand, eyes dropping down to the fingers.

"What about mine?" Jane asks, walking over to hover next to him. "I don't have all the machinery that Tony does, just a bunch of computers. Would that be alright, you think?"

After a moment, James nods. "Let's try it," he says.

Tony isn't surprised in the least when Captain Overprotective joins them on the way to the elevator.


	80. And me without mittens

Title: And me without mittens

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Karla Kuskin

Warnings: post Captain America 2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 345

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, secret identity

* * *

><p>"Hey, dude," Sora calls, "hold the elevator!" Her hands are full of groceries and Val's bratty kid, so she breathes a sigh of relief when the door stays open. As she stumbles in, one of her upstairs' neighbors grabs two of the bags. "Thanks," she mutters, trying to settle Ryan more firmly in her arms, but he's a squirmy little fella, like he heard her call him bratty in her mind, which, hey - mutants are a thing now. It'd be just her luck, honestly.<p>

"Which floor?" the guy asks, still holding her groceries.

"Four," she says. "Normally, I just take the stairs, but today? Hell no." She glances up at him in time to catch his nod of commiseration.

She blinks at him. She's pretty sure she's seen glimpses of him before; he's the only one on the sixth floor, and the encroaching gangs had collectively stepped back when he moved in, which, yeah, that was pretty awesome, but he looks totally different than that shadow. Beneath the stubble and dirty hair, there had apparently been hiding quite the hottie, with bright blue eyes and _hey there, holy cheekbones_.

(And Val cannot _ever_ meet him, because she always goes for the tragic douchebags, see: Ryan's dad and the clusterfuck that was.)

"I'm Sora," she says as the elevator stops at her floor. "This little guy is my nephew, Ryan. Thanks, again."

"Jimmy," he says. His gaze goes from the grocery sacks in his hand to her still-full hands and the little boy squirming again. "Do you need help?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "Thanks, but no," she says. "I've got this. It was nice to meet you, Jimmy." She takes the bags back and doesn't wait for the doors to close.

She lets all the bags fall right inside her apartment so that she can let Ryan down, then picks the bags up as he toddles off.

Maybe she should make a batch of cookies to bring up to Jimmy?

Nah. But she'll definitely strike up a conversation the next time she sees him.


	81. a sinking man comes up to face the skies

Title: Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man comes up to face the skies

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dickinson

Warnings: mentions of abuse/violence/death/Hydra being a fuckwad

Pairings: gen with MAJOR Steve/Bucky leanings (of course)

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 430

Point of view: second

Prompt: MCU, any, "If you say (any)'s name three times she/he/it'll turn up."

* * *

><p><em>Bucky?<em> the target says, and deep inside, something shivers.

_James Buchanan Barnes,_ the target says, and deep inside, something howls.

...

Someone, somewhere, is waiting for you to return, to sit in the chair, to submit, to sleep. Someone, somewhere, will die beneath your fists, your blades, your guns. Someone, somewhere, is panicking because you will not arrive in a timely manner.

No. There is no schedule to follow, no commands to obey. There is no master, now.

You are your own master, and your fists are clenched, and your jaw is tight, and you will never submit or obey again. You will arrive when you choose, and it will be with the sweeping fury of a hurricane, the implacable wrath of winter.

Deep inside, something roars.

...

They search for you, your one-time masters and your one-time target, both. You are following them the whole time, picking off the would-be masters and guarding the steps of the one-time target.

What to do with him, this Captain America and his winged friend? Protect them both, study them, discern their mission, yes, but beyond that?

One day, all the heads will be cut off, all the stumps cauterized, and the monster will lie dead, broken and hollow. What will you do then?

Who will you be, then, with no targets at all?

…

Steve Rogers was once your whole world. You remember that time when you sleep; those dreams are far more restful than your memories as Hydra's fist. You once protected Captain America as you did Steve Rogers, but you never followed the icon. You followed _that little guy from Brooklyn_, the one _too dumb not to run away from a fight._

Steve has been getting into more foolish and desperate fights, leaving his back wide open. You know why, and so does Sam Wilson, who berates him for it nightly. His tirades are not as fearsome as the ones Steve's long-dead friend used to give him while icing his bruises, while bandaging his wounds.

Steve's long-dead friend…

Deep inside, something snarls.

…

Steve opens the door barely half a minute after you knock. You have timed this perfectly; Steve goes on runs at the same time every morning, while stateside, as he is right now. Sam Wilson was injured during their last raid on Hydra. Hydra's greatest weapon, rogue for a year now, provided them with cover fire during their exit.

Steve blinks at you, mouth open in shock. "Bucky?" he breathes, eyes wide.

Deep inside, something settles into place, and you nod. "Hey, Steve," you _(Bucky)_ say, smiling your first smile since 1945.


	82. It seems too much to hope

Title: It seems too much to hope

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov

Warnings: mentions of character death/violence/torture/brainwashing; spoilers for Captain America: Winter Soldier

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 255<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, _If I'd known what we made would be gone like yesterday..._-Goodbye by Glenn Morrison feat. Islove

* * *

><p>There is a world where Bucky never fell, and there's a world where Steve fell with him, and there's a world where Steve never met Erskine, or Bucky was never captured by Hydra, and there's a world where Bucky's family didn't move to Brooklyn, and where Steve died at ten months old.<p>

But in this world, Bucky fell, and Steve went into the ice, and while Steve slept, horrible things happened to Bucky, and Bucky's body did horrible things that Steve will never blame him for, and what is left of Bucky pulls Steve out of the water and leaves him there, barely alive but already healing.

In this world, Steve and Bucky were best friends, closer than brothers, two halves of the same whole. In this world, Steve risked everything to save Bucky once, and he's more than willing to do it again. In this world, Bucky picked up Steve's shield on a train and he'd do it again. In this world, decades of programming start to break down because Steve says, "Bucky?"

In this world, Steve begins hunting down Hydra and looking for Bucky, and what's left of Bucky does the same.

In this world, Bucky spent the majority of his 26 years protecting, caring for, and loving Steve Rogers. The 70 years without him are nothing but a nightmare and shards.

In this world, Hydra is on the run, Bucky and Steve at opposite ends and cutting off heads, and when they meet in the middle –

"Bucky," Steve says.

"Steve," Bucky says back.


	83. footprints in the snow

Title: footprints in the snow

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: So, this is a bit abstract, I think, with a very unreliable narrator who has no fucking clue what is going on inside his head or outside it, so, there's that. Mentions of violence/brainwashing/torture.

Pairings: none

Rating: PG13?

Wordcount: 515

Point of view: third

Prompt: Steve/Bucky, the reason Bucky rescued Steve from the Potomac wasn't because Bucky was remembering Steve or breaking through his programming. It was because all he knows is extreme cruelty from Pierce/Rumlow/etc., and he reacted to the small bit of kindness Steve showed him like an abused dog.

* * *

><p>There is nothing inside the asset but falling snow. He remembers it from a mission – so long ago. One of the few things to stay with him, through the sleeps. He remembers the snow, how gentle it was, how cold. Not cold like when they force him to sleep, or what's left after the machine takes him. This cold was… quiet. Soft.<p>

He does not remember what the mission was, only the snow as it fell on him on his way back to his handlers. He left red footprints in his wake, but the snow covered them.

As he watches the target (the _mission_) fall, he remembers the snow. He remembers his handlers, his masters, the man – he remembers.

The mission has fallen into the river. The mission is sinking. Either unconscious or too injured to swim.

Inside him, there is snow. There is snow falling. He does not know who James Buchanan Barnes is. He does not care who James Buchanan Barnes is. Who _Bucky_ was. But there is snow falling inside him.

The mission has sunk beneath the water, the mission who did not fight, there at the end. Who let his greatest weapon go and looked the asset in the eye, not caring of the – not snow. Blizzard, maybe. The asset struck again and again, but the mission did not –

The mission has fallen into the river, and there is snow falling inside the asset. And he does not know, he has not been told – _I knew him_, the asset thinks through the snow. _No, I did not_.

There is snow falling. He lets go of the helicarrier and falls with it. He is badly damaged, but the snow covers the pain and allows him to reach, to grab, to persevere through the water, until he has dragged both himself and the mission to the shore. He does not collapse beside the man because there is – there is snow, and it is so quiet, falling in his mind, through his veins.

His masters' machine, the one that takes and takes, it will not give him peace, nor will the place where he sleeps.

The mission – coughs, a little, and breathes, on the riverbank. More of the helicarrier and the building explode. The asset is badly damaged, but he will not return to his handlers, to his masters, to the man. No. There is snow falling, and behind it, a wind is sweeping in.

He turns away from the mission because that is no longer his mission. _Captain America_, Steve Rogers – he is out of the water. He is breathing.

He saved the asset's life, and did not defend himself when the asset attacked, after. The asset does not know why, or why he pulled him from the water.

He must find shelter. He must rest, attain sustenance. He must decide on what to do.

No more masters. No more machine, no more forced sleep. No more cold save for what is already in him, settled in his veins, covering his bones.

There is snow falling. He walks. There are red footprints behind him.


	84. The hot July moon saw everythin'

Title: The hot July moon saw everythin'

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Deanna Carter

Warnings: character death

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1780

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>Has been moved to its own story because it's now a two-shot.<p> 


	85. the miracle is coming back

Title: the miracle is coming back from the last war alive

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from James Humphrey

Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; talk of death/violence/torture

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 210

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, _Your mind is the scene of the crime._ (Inception)

* * *

><p>He remembers falling. He remembers cold and dark and pain that faded too quickly to be anything good. He remembers shouting and sharp cuts and a hurt that encompassed the world.<p>

He remembers forgetting. It was a slow process, his breaking and reforming into their weapon. It took years. He remembers them all, now, and the decades of his slavery as the bloody fist of Hydra.

He remembers how long it took Bucky Barnes to die, and how hard a death it was.

He remembers faces. He remembers names. He remembers locations. The asset saw it all and never forgot. Their machine didn't burn it out of him; it blanketed the knowledge in snow and froze it to walls of ice, but they are shattered, now, fractals melting on the ground of his mind, and Bucky Barnes wields a fire that will raze them all.

He remembers. He knows secrets Hydra has long buried, and he knows their weaknesses, and he knows their procedures. He knows where all those in authority will run, will hide, will wait for the storm to pass.

The storm will not pass. He owes them 70 years of pain and blood and the cold of not-quite-death, and he remembers that Bucky Barnes always paid his debts.


	86. When looking westward

Title: When looking westward, I beheld a something

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Coleridge

Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; self-deprecating narration; AUish, mishmash backstory for both Clint&Natasha

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 475

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU:Avengers (canon or AU), Hawkeye, _"The story of a nobody who saved everybody."_ (The Lego Movie Tagline)

* * *

><p>Clint knows that he shouldn't be on <em>this<em> team - the smartest men in the world, Captain America, an alien warrior prince, and Tasha, the most dangerous of them all. He's a nobody, just an orphan raised as a carnie, just a mercenary who managed to snake a target right under SHIELD's nose, and instead of taking him out, Coulson brought him in and offered him a spot. But snipers are replaceable, and Clint always knew one day someone would get the best of him.

For a few weeks, as he hunted the Black Widow, he assumed it would be her. But instead of taking her out from a distance, he went in to talk to her, and he brought her home.

And then Loki. The wave of blue, the smoking helicarrier, the destruction in New York – Clint kept waiting for someone to arrest him, to lock him away, but after the dust settled, Hill told him to clear out and keep to the ground, so he did. While Tony dealt with terrorists and Thor did whatever the fuck in London and then Tasha and Captain America tore down SHIELD to show off its' Hydra innards, Clint kept to back roads and wandered.

He waits for Tasha's message (_Safe :) stay lost_) and keeps to his meandering course. He's just another nobody.

Her next message is two weeks later and it makes him sit up straight from his sprawl on the ground. It's in a code they haven't used since Budapest and his eyes widen as he decodes it: _Remember that time you hunted down a spider? Now you need to hunt down a ghost._ Attached are the pertinent files, encrypted; it takes him all night to decrypt 'em. After he does, he just shakes his head.

The Winter Soldier. Once, Captain America's best friend, from back before he was Captain America. The only of her teachers that Tasha remembers fondly, not that _he_ remembers _her_. Tasha is off being busy somewhere, and Captain America is tracking the Winter Soldier while also burning Hydra to the ground, but Cap's not much of a hunter when his prey isn't announcing itself to the world.

Clint hasn't done anything since Hill told him to get lost, so of course Tasha sent him the (second?) most dangerous mission of his life.

He spends two days on the files: facts on the Soldier's breaking/remaking, training, programming, past missions, and then the mission that broke it all into pieces. The last file is only what Tasha thinks the Soldier might do, where he might go. She's thinking like an operative who just broke free – but, she admits to him, in cold black and white text, that she was never a person, before. The Soldier was.

"Well," Clint says, stretching and packing up his kit. "Time to go ghost hunting."


	87. the hour of the ghost

Title: the hour of the ghost

Disclaimer: not my characters (except for Kat); title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: post-WS

Pairings: Steve/OFC, Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 390

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, I woke up next to him/her wishing they were you

* * *

><p>"Her name's Kat, she's really nice," Natasha said, "really big history buff. Give her a call. You're so lonely, Steve."<p>

Three months into the search for Bucky, taking a week off to decompress, try to relearn to breathe, sleeping for fourteen hours at a time in Sam's guest bed.

"Have you actually done any living since you woke up?" Natasha said. "It's not healthy, all work and no play. I know."

Her name's Kat. She's got unnaturally blonde hair, green eyes, a tattoo on her shoulder that peeks from under her dress. Natasha bought them tickets to a ballet, and Steve takes Kat to a nice place after, and they talk about - well, history, for her. Three years ago for him.

It's so bizarre.

She can't talk about how she knows Natasha, and Steve doesn't mention any of – well, anything he's done since he woke up, except the day-to-day stuff. The museums he's visited, the sight-seeing he's done to relearn a city he once knew.

Kat's really nice, Natasha was right about that. He walks her to her door and she invites him in.

He's so tired. He's so lonely. It's been four years since he touched anyone intimately, so he lets Kat push him onto the bed and tries to turn off everything but pleasure.

He wakes up the next morning to Kat climbing out of the bed and has to close his eyes to keep the tears from falling.

Steve knows he won't be able to do this again, no matter how lonely it gets.

He gets dressed, thanks Kat for the good time, and goes back to Sam's house, where he showers till the hot water runs out, and then stands in the cold, shivering as he ignores his memories of the ice.

"So?" Natasha asks when she calls later that day. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," he says. "But I'm not going out again."

Four years ago, he woke next to Bucky, curled up with him to stave off the cold. They were on the way to capture Zola.

"We've been resting long enough," he says to Natasha as Sam walks in the door. "We're getting back to work tomorrow."

Natasha sighs, "Aye aye, Captain," and Sam nods.

That night, he dreams of Bucky in their old apartment, flipping through Steve's sketchbook, grinning at him, bright as anything.


	88. flowers smash through the long winter

Title: the truth of how flowers smash through the long winter

Disclaimer: everyone except the Avengers and Bucky are mine; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: post-WS; mentions of what might happen in Avengers 2; talk of suicide/violence; I know nothing about owning/operating a restaurant except what Kitchen Nightmares told me

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1970

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, any, superheroing doesn't pay that well so s/he has a side job

* * *

><p>About half a year after that whole mess in DC, what with the long-dead Nazis <em>not<em> being so long dead and Captain America vanishing from the public eye, Yasmin Everine needed to hire a new janitor for her papa's diner. (Still Papa's diner even with him ten years dead; always Papa's diner.) Bob Urquhart had been cleaning the floors and the grills and the ovens and _everything_ ever since the diner opened, before Yasmin had even been born, but he'd finally had to stop 'cause he was just too old, now. She still paid him every month because, well, why wouldn't she? The diner did well enough.

Anyway. Yasmin needed a new janitor. That's where everything started.

.

"Should I come back?" Alex asked her, sounding scared from halfway around the world.

"No," she told him because he was doing what he'd always wanted, hiking his way from one end of Africa to the other, no matter the danger. "I'll be just fine, Alexander, I promise."

It took another hour before she convinced her baby brother to stay where he was. He'd hated the diner all his life; she took comfort from Papa's dream, alive around her. But finally Alex agreed to remain on his quest and she returned to stack of bills on her dinner table.

.

Three days after he retired, months after the mess in DC, Bob hobbled his way into the diner and told Yasmin, "I've found a boy who could take my place."

Yasmin had barely begun to make her way through the stack of applications but they needed someone _immediately_.

"Could he start today?" she asked.

.

His name was Jimmy Barnes, he tried not to meet her eyes, he flinched at loud noises, and he always wore long sleeves and gloves. He was quiet, he kept to himself, and he followed her directions perfectly.

"I'm pretty sure that poor boy was a soldier," Bob told her a week after Jimmy started. "And someone's not done right by him."

He was too thin, in too-large clothes, his hair was straggly when he didn't wear it back (which, he usually wore it pulled back), and he always ate everything on the plate she made him for breakfast (part of his wage).

He might be Alex's age, _maybe_. He probably wasn't. Definitely too young to look so tired.

.

As the weeks passed, Jimmy began smiling. Began making small comments here and there to the wait staff and the cooks, usually something that sounded innocent 'til thought about later, when you'd realize how innuendo-laden it was. He stopped flinching and met people's gazes, but he still wore long sleeves and gloves, and he was still too thin.

One evening, he came in with his hair shorn close and his face clean shaven, and Yasmin almost couldn't believe her eyes. Jimmy Barnes was _gorgeous_ and he gave her a flirty smile as he got to work.

Anna and Ryan both flirted with him, and so did Rolanda, the cook old enough to be Jimmy's mother, but Jimmy just flirted back until their shifts were done.

.

Jimmy only got in one fight, and it was out back, while he was emptying the trash cans into the dumpsters. Yasmin heard about it later, from Ryan, who closed that night. He said that he wasn't sure what all started the mess, but it ended with one drunk out cold and Jimmy escorting one of the strippers from the place up the hill home.

Since Jimmy came back to finish his shift, Ryan told her, bemused, he guessed Jimmy hadn't gotten lucky.

Yasmin gave him a quick smack to the shoulder and told him to seat the couple that had just come in.

.

When a customer demanded to speak to the manager, Hettie (third week on the job) hurried to Yasmin's office, near tears, and stuttered her way through a story about orders put into the system wrong, a seafood allergy, and Vince using the wrong kind of oil. Yasmin calmed Hettie down and went to soothe the customer's temper.

After everything was settled, she sent a quick glance around the diner and then took a second look at the booth in the corner, where Jimmy was sitting with a boy who couldn't be more than fourteen. The boy was watching Jimmy speak with an awed gaze, in between bites of his burger.

Yasmin wandered over and asked, "Everything alright here?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said, giving her a smile. "Evan needed help with some troublemakers, is all. I'm buying him dinner while his brother's on the way."

The boy (messy brown hair, bruised face, bloody fingertips splayed over a sketchpad) nodded earnestly. "We're fine, ma'am, honest," he said.

"Well, you take care, Evan," she said, squeezing Jimmy's shoulder as she turned to go back to her office.

.

Evan became a fixture in the diner, after that. He sketched the customers, the décor, the staff – mostly, he sketched Jimmy, though he tried to hide it. Whoever he was trying to avoid never came into the diner.

Jimmy always had a smile for him, a comforting word, advice for how to deal with bullies. He even coached Evan through a few self-defense moves.

Yasmin wanted to ask if Jimmy'd had a brother once, but she never did. Bob told her he'd been a soldier, and done wrong by someone, and Jimmy's past was none of her business.

He was so _good_ with Evan, though, and with the children who rushed around the diner while their tired parents ate, and she wanted him to – to find happiness, maybe. It'd been a year since Bob brought him in, and Jimmy had changed so much. She just wanted him to be happy, and maybe he finally was.

.

When the Avengers joined back up together, it made headlines across the world. Yasmin watched the news (it was on every channel, she couldn't miss it) with wide eyes, trying to call Alex. He was somewhere in Asia, having left Africa and Europe behind him. He never picked up.

Three days later, when Jimmy asked what was wrong, she cried on his shoulder about her baby brother, somewhere in Asia, and all the riots, all the violence —

The next night, Jimmy didn't come to work. Or the night after that. Or the night after that. For two weeks, Jimmy didn't show up, and he wasn't at his tiny apartment in Bob's building, and he didn't answer the phone. Everyone picked up the slack, and then –

Then Alex walked through the door, Jimmy just behind him.

.

Alex had gotten caught up in the aftershocks emanating through Europe and Asia as the Avengers' fight wound down. He'd been in a place he didn't know, with a language he couldn't speak, with people who were panicking.

And _somehow_, with only a name and a picture, all the way around the world, Jimmy _found_ him.

But Yasmin didn't ask questions, and Jimmy didn't offer answers, and with Alex in her guest room writing a book about his travels, life went on.

.

Life went on until Captain America walked in the door.

It was an hour till close, with only Yasmin, Rolanda, Hettie, and Jimmy still there. A couple was finishing up their dinner, and after they were gone, if no one else came in, Yasmin was planning on shuting everything down for the evening.

Captain America wasn't dressed like Captain America, in a dark t-shirt, a jean jacket, dark jeans, and a ballcap on his head, but once Alex had his posters plastered all over the walls and watched his movies every day for _months_.

"Have a seat anywhere, sir," Hettie called from the breakfast bar, where she'd been refilling the salt canisters. "I'll be right with you."

Yasmin watched with bewilderment as Captain America ordered roast beef with mashed potatoes, a side of bacon, and a basket of bread, all to be washed down with a soda, please, thank you, ma'am. Hettie didn't seem to recognize him, and Rolanda didn't leave the kitchen, and Jimmy was –

Yasmin blinked. Jimmy was hanging back by the storeroom, peering at Captain America with _longing_ on his face.

The couple left, so Yasmin went over to clear their table. Jimmy stayed in the far doorway. Hettie refilled Captain America's soda.

When Yasmin re-entered the dining room, Jimmy was sitting across the table from Captain America, arms crossed across his chest.

"It was because I found the kid, wasn't it?" Jimmy asked.

Captain America nodded. "Nothing for months," he said. "A part of me wondered if you'd gone back just to be put down, if maybe you'd – you'd decided to –"

Jimmy cut him off. "I thought about it, in those first few days. Came close a couple times."

Captain America looked down. "I was so – I scoured the world for you, and I tore Hydra apart, and you were never there. There wasn't a hint of you _anywhere_. And then, with, with Ultron, I had to stop looking."

Jimmy smiled at him. Yasmin knew that she should go back into the kitchen, but Hettie was watching from by the till, and Rolanda peering around behind her, and even with their eyes only on each other, both Jimmy and Captain America _had_ to know they had an audience.

"I didn't want you to find me, ya punk," Jimmy said. "I had to find myself first."

Captain America smiled, slow and sweet. "You popped up on Stark's computer and I could breathe again." His hand inched away from his plate, toward Jimmy, and Jimmy uncrossed his arms. "Whatever you decide, I'm fine with," Captain America said. "Just knowing that you're alive somewhere…"

Jimmy took his hand with his own gloved one and said, "I found myself, Stevie. But I want quiet, now. I'm done with – " He took a deep breath. "I'm done with the blood and the killing and the cold."

Hettie gasped, "Oh holy fuck," but neither of the men looked over. She hurried to Yasmin and Rolanda, and she muttered, "That's Captain America!"

"Hush, girl," Rolanda hissed, gesturing at her for silence.

"Does your quiet have room for me?" Captain America asked.

Jimmy smiled at him, bright and wide like Yasmin had never seen. "Always."

.

When Captain America left, Jimmy went with him. He tipped twice the price of his meal, and Hettie gaped after them, and Rolanda hmm'd as she straightened up the kitchen, and Yasmin just sat at the bar, because –

Jimmy's past life must have been something. He didn't even give her more than a smile as he walked out the door.

"Hettie," Yasmin finally said, locking the front door, "don't tweet or facebook or tumble anything from tonight."

"But!" Hettie said, phone already in hand.

"No!" Yasmin said. "Did you not see what I did? Jimmy just wants his life. Do the decent thing and let him have it."

Hettie looked down at her phone and it was a long moment before she nodded, putting it away. "I'll walk you to your car," Yasmin said, and Rolanda followed.

As Hettie drove away, Rolanda asked, "Think that boy'll ever be back?"

Yasmin shrugged. "I don't know."

As always, they'd parked next to each other, so they both climbed into their cars and headed to their homes.

.

Alex was still awake, flipping through the channels. Like usual, there was nothing on.

Yasmin paused on the way to her room. "Alex, what was Bucky Barnes' real first name?"

"James," he said without looking away from the horror movie's screaming blonde.

Of course. Jimmy Barnes. How in the hell… but it didn't matter, did it?

She hoped he'd found his happiness – or, rather, that his happiness had found him.

.

Captain America vanished from the public eye. Jimmy Barnes never worked another shift at Yasmin's diner.

Life went on.


	89. somewhere ages and ages hence

Title: I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; talk of torture/violence

Pairings: gen with Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 215

Point of view: third  
>Prompt: any, any, "The Road Not Taken" -<em>Robert Frost<em>

* * *

><p>"Where to next?" Steve asks, opening the map. Bucky's slouched on the other side of the booth, in a hoodie and gloves, one hand still wrapped around his soda even though it's mostly just melting ice, now.<p>

"I've never been to Australia," he says, voice softer than it ever was in their first life. There's a hesitance to him, now, like he's never sure of what he's saying or why.

"Me either," Steve tells him, tucking the map away.

Somewhere new. Somewhere with no blood, no footprints, no echoes in both their minds.

The waitress bustles back with refills and their lunch; Steve thanks her while Bucky looks down at his hands.

Steve wants vengeance, he really does. He wants to look every scientist in the eye, wants to make them burn and hurt and bleed until there's nothing left but a sack of flesh, and then he wants to go after the politicians, the guards, the agents on the ground – he wants Hydra dead in the dust, and then he wants to grind the bones into powder and salt the earth.

But more than that, he wants Bucky to _live_.

Bucky eats slowly, savoring each bite. Steve asks him, "What do you know about Australia?"

Bucky smiles at him and says, "You know what a platypus is?"


	90. find all those places

Title: find all those places you must've dreamed of

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Emmylou Harris

Warnings: post-Winter Soldier

Pairings:

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 290<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any,

_Throughout his life the same –  
>He's battled constantly.<br>This fight he cannot win –  
>A tired man they see no longer cares.<em>  
>("Unforgiven," Metallica)<p>

* * *

><p>He leaves the museum and he walks. He walks day and night, day and night, day and night. He stops to steal food when he can no longer stand the hunger (he thinks it is hunger, but he's not sure he knows), and he drinks at public water fountains, puddles, birdbaths. And he walks and he walks and he walks.<p>

As he walks, he remembers. Steve Rogers, tiny and always in fights. Zola's laugh and his mother's smile. Children, women, and men dead because they were the mission. His sisters crying because they went to bed hungry. How long it took Bucky Barnes to die, and how much he'd hate the ghost walking around in his corpse.

He has not slept since 1944. He stands, watching the sun rise, in 2014. He remembers that he should've been dead long ago. He should have died in the ice and snow, safe in the knowledge that Steve would live.

But he did not die. And Steve did not live for long.

He remembers that he loved Steve – but Bucky Barnes died in the snow. Who he is now…

Who he is now is _tired._ He has walked for days and nights and countryside surrounds him. He wanders further into the brush and lets himself fall onto the ground.

He has fully healed but he is so very tired. He no longer remembers how to sleep but he just lays there until his body figures it out.

His first dream in 70 years is of his sisters and Steve laughing together as Steve tells some story, and his mother and Steve's are there, too, and then Steve pulls him into the middle, and –

He wakes with tears on his face. He is still tired.


	91. The old hope

Title: The old hope is hardest to be lost

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Warnings: post-Avengers 2 & Cap3; insecurity issues

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 615

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, Any, "No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away and what's left?"

* * *

><p>He spent 25 years as a little guy and then 3 as Captain America, so when the pulse of light hits him and he's suddenly a foot shorter and wheezing, it doesn't even faze him. It's everybody else that freaks out.<p>

.

"Holy fuck, you're pocket-sized!" Clint crows as soon as they're told Steve's not in danger of keeling over dead. (No one believed him when _he_ said it, but Stark and Banner team up with the only doctor Clint and Nat both trust and they figure out that it'll wear off in a month at the latest. Steve's not sure how but he'll take their word for it.)

Steve feels better now than he ever did before the serum. And he can go for walks without being mobbed by people, so that's a plus. He's not allowed out on calls with the team, but he still has command via the coms, and while he keeps up with his training as much as he can, he's got hours now that he didn't before the pulse.

.

"How did you even survive?" Stark demands while Steve is panting on the common area's couch. This time, he was able to do 10 laps before he had to stop. He's still got two weeks before he should be back to nor- _back_. His post-serum body isn't normal, it's a gift.

"Bucky," Steve gasps, tilting his head back to look at Stark.

Stark rolls his eyes. "Of course it took a cyborg-assassin to keep you alive."

Steve doesn't bother replying; he just tries to breathe.

.

Scumbags don't take a break just because Captain America is out of commission. He's out restocking his art supplies (Natasha and Clint "borrowed" his charcoal and he's given up on getting them back) when he sees a mugging. Of course he tries to chase the guy down.

Before, he'd have never caught up. Now, he does. And he actually does pretty well, until the guy kicks him in the ribs.

"Man, who the fuck are you?" the mugger shouts as Steve struggles back to his feet.

Steve laughs, dodging the guy's next kick. One of the bystanders (an off-duty cop, Steve's pretty sure) steps in to help as Steve says, "I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."

.

"I'm surprised you didn't take him out," Steve says when Bucky breaks into his room via the balcony. (Bucky's on Steve's always-admit list with Jarvis, but he likes the balcony more than the front door. Steve's given up protesting. It makes Bucky happy, anyway.)

"You had him on the ropes," Bucky says, throwing himself onto the couch beside Steve. Steve sets aside his sketchbook so that Bucky can sprawl over him.

These past few weeks, Steve has felt more at home than he had since the serum. He fits in Bucky's arms again; Bucky can completely cover him. He knew he'd missed that; he just wasn't aware of how much.

"We'll have to step up the sparring," Bucky says. "Get you back in fighting shape."

Steve nods into his neck and sighs.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asks.

Steve sighs again. "I just… a part of me doesn't want it back," he confesses. There is no one else in the world he'd dare admit it to, but this is _Bucky._ He knew Steve before. He and Peggy – but Peggy only ever knew him after Erskine chose him. Bucky was with him for his whole life.

Bucky twists so that he can look up at Steve. "You're still you, Steve," he says.

Steve just stares down at him, mouth open. Bucky smiles at him. "Aren't you?"

.

"Glad to have you back, Cap," Clint says as they load onto Stark's jet. Steve just smiles at him.


	92. whose dust was once all fire

Title: whose dust was once all fire

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Byron

Warnings: AU during The First Avenger; AU for everything after; post-apocalyptic

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 720

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, sleeping for 100 years

* * *

><p>He wakes up shivering. It surprises him because he was fairly certain he'd died; he remembered hitting the ice, remembered the cold creeping in -<p>

But he's awake and it is _so cold_. He rolls over, wincing at the pain. Everything hurts but he doesn't seem to be bleeding. It takes him three tries to reach his feet and he stumbles over to the radio, tries to call somebody. The whole thing is dead. The glass is broken and an icy wind sweeping in.

It's so cold.

He knows where he went down, and he knows what direction to walk, and someone must be looking for him. He tries to scavenge what supplies he can, but everything is frozen. It takes about an hour (he thinks?) to chip his shield free and it is the only thing he takes with him when he slips out of the carcass of the plane.

.

He does not know how long he wanders south. He walks until he must sleep; he wakes only to walk some more. He barely feels the cold anymore. He's grown used to the hunger; he eats ice when he can't handle the thirst.

When he hears the aircraft, he stops. He watches it hover in the sky and then a rope is thrown down. His fingers barely work as he ties it around his middle and he's mostly unconscious by the time he's pulled in.

.

He wakes up warm. He's in a white room, dressed in white, and he's _warm_. He'd forgotten what that felt like.

"You're a puzzle," a voice says.

He turns his head to look at the woman watching him. She's maybe 40 with short red hair, wearing some sort of uniform. "Coulson swears you're Captain America; her dad was a major fan. All records, of course, were lost in the invasion."

"Invasion?" he asks.

She nods. "The Chitauri, the start of the Mad Titan's attempt to reign. It failed in the end, but it tore everything apart. We're still rebuilding."

That doesn't make any sense. He looks around the room; the equipment he's hooked up to – "What year is it?" he asks.

The woman says, "2050."

.

When the red-haired woman, Natasha, determines he's no threat, they let him out. The Allies won the war, but more wars followed. Natasha's people have a few historians who don't mind telling him, who are trying to rerecord millennias' worth of history.

In 2012, aliens invaded. In 2020, while the world was still reeling, Hydra tried to massacre millions of people and nearly succeeded. Tony Stark managed to stop it, but it cost his life and about a million more.

Steve doesn't recognize anything anymore. He wishes he hadn't woke up

.

He's sitting at the edge of the Grand Canyon at dawn on March 18, 2051. Bucky would be 133 today. But Bucky died 107 years ago.

So did Steve.

.

On July 4, 2051 (a day that's no longer celebrated because the USA doesn't exist the way it did), Steve is riding a motorcycle along a highway. He knows that he could help Natasha's people with the rebuilding effort, try to restore order – but he's just. This isn't his world. He _died_ for his world, and then he woke up into a frozen wasteland of a hell, and he's done.

He's 133 years old but he's only lived for 28 of them. He shouldn't even be here.

.

He's in Brooklyn, looking around the ruins, and he hears, "I didn't believe her. I had to see for myself." It's a voice he knows better than he knows his own.

"Wandering around the Arctic – your sense of direction was always awful," the voice continues, but Steve can't move. Can't turn to see.

Can't be wrong.

"Steve," Bucky says, right behind him. "Please look at me. I have to - _please._"

He turns, lifts his head, and _Bucky is standing there_. His hair is longer, he's wearing some sort of body armor, his left arm is metal… but it's Bucky.

"How?" he asks, reaching out to touch Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky's smiling just as wide as he is, and Steve doesn't even try to hold back the tears as Bucky pulls him into the tightest hug they've ever shared.

"Fucking Hydra," Bucky says. "Oh, fuck, Steve, you're _alive_."

.

Steve's glad he woke up.


	93. sleep wake hope and then

Title: sleep wake hope and then

Disclaimer: not my character; title from ee cummings

Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; aftermath of torture/brainwashing

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 255<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Captain America movies; Winter Soldier; Sleep doesn't come easy

* * *

><p>He does not remember how to sleep. He knows that he must have known it, once: every organic being requires sleep so as to recharge, to let the mind rest. Without sleep, he knows (though he does not know why, or how he learned, or when) people go mad and then die.<p>

He does not sleep outside of the cold, but there is no cold, here. He will not return to the cold, submit silently to the handlers and technicians.

But without the cold – he lies down on the ground inside an abandoned warehouse. He knows the site is secure; he has made it so. He lies down, arms at his side, legs straight, and closes his eyes. He is tired, dirty, and hungry. He is not cold.

He does not sleep.

For six nights, he does not sleep. He is exhausted. Barely functioning. He almost kills half a dozen homeless people and a stray dog, so he stops going out. He spends days on the ground, ignoring the hunger and thirst.

How do people sleep? His mind does not quiet. His body trembles.

He must rest. He does not want to die –

He blinks, staring at the ceiling. _He does not want to die_.

If he does not want to die, then he must resume caring for the body. Sustenance. Water. Cleaning. Maybe –

He heaves himself to his feet. Water, food, bathing. Maybe if he does not hunger, sleep will come.

(It does. He wakes an hour later, but it is a start.)


	94. we all won that war

Title: we all won that war

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: AU pre-canon; spoilers all the way to Winter Soldier

Pairings: implied Clint/Natasha & Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 1290<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint/Natasha, Clint defected instead of Natasha

* * *

><p>"We have a place for you," the American says. His hands are empty at his sides, fingers spread to simulate his helplessness. Of course he is not helpless - he has hunted her across five nations, through three separate battlegrounds, and not lost her scent even once. It is very impressive.<p>

She should be dead; this American is a perfect marksman and even she must know from where the shot is coming before she can duck.

Were he not American, and not so young, she might think her own teacher taught him, but no. By his stance, he has learned from some American agency, what he didn't teach himself.

"Your masters wish me dead," she says.

"Yeah, okay, that's true," he laughs. "But I think you deserve a second chance." He shrugs.

She wants to smile at his naivety. Oh, this American is so very young. "I escaped my masters once," she says, "and I burned them behind me. I'll not be imprisoned again."

He doesn't tense, just keeps watching her. She tilts her head, watching him right back. "Were you caught?" she asks, keeping the smile off her face. "Were you given this same choice?"

He winces before wiping the expression away, but he is not as good as her. (None are.) (… well, one. But he was a long time ago, and is most likely dead, now.) (Maybe…)

"You were," she says gently. "Hunted down and told to come in or die…" He flicks his glance away; his hands close into fists. "And now you seek to cage me as you have been caged? I think not." She silently walks to him, carefully sets her hands on his shoulders.

If he were fast enough, he could kill her right now. She can most definitely kill him. She doesn't want to; he is a fascinating boy.

"Will you keep hunting me if I let you live?" she whispers, gently turning his face so that she catches his gaze. "You have to return with my head or me beside you, yes? What is the price of failure?"

"They're the good guys," he says, but he does not believe the words.

"My masters said that, too," she tells him. "Would you like to hear a third choice?"

He laughs, the sound both bitter and desperate. "Sure," he says. "Why the fuck not."

She smiles at him now, a smile she has not worn since last she saw Winter, and she offers, "Come with me instead."

He stares at her, completely gobsmacked, and her smile widens. "No masters but ourselves; no rules but our own. I'll give you until dawn to decide, and then I'll be gone." She lifts her hand to gently pat his cheek and backs up a step. He just keeps staring at her so she turns and exits through the window.

He does not shoot her.

.

In the morning, the American joins her for breakfast. "I'm Clint," he says as he sits down. "Hawkeye."

She does not smile at him. Instead, she says, "And I am Natasha." They do not shake hands.

.

Clint is amusing and efficient. He refuses to kill children, but this is the extent of his morals. She follows him in that. (She has never hesitated if the mission necessitated children's deaths, but she is no longer on missions. What she takes now are _jobs_. She does not explain the difference to Clint, but he is clever enough. She is sure he has figured it out.)

Because she is with Clint in Hong Kong instead being vetted at SHIELD, she sees Winter ducking into a shop. She knows that there is an old safe house beneath it.

He is not dead. He is still enslaved to somebody. Not her masters and creators – he was gone long before she destroyed them all.

She sends Clint a text because she has found a new mission and whoever has Winter now must be dealt with.

.

When Captain America is thawed just in time for the Aesir/Jötnar/Chitauri invasion, he is asked to help a team called the Avengers – Iron Man, Hulk, and Falcon. Loki takes Fury, Selvig, and Hill – the army he finds of humans is not as impressive as it could be because no one trusts Fury. Stark is too busy tracking the tesseract to find Phase 2, and Hydra –

Well, Hydra has been systematically hunted down for a decade and is nowhere near full strength.

But in the streets of New York, three master assassins arrive just in time to turn the tide. The best snipers in the world pick off hundreds of the drones while the Black Widow and Selvig close the door a full minute before the World Security Council decide to nuke Manhattan.

Captain America catches sight of the three of them and his mouth drops open. "Bucky?" he calls.

Iron Man, Hulk, and Falcon are blocks away as Captain America stumbles over to the three assassins.

Winter watches him come, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

He says, "Steve."

.

Twelve days ago, Bucky Barnes fell off a train.

When Natasha says, "We should leave before SHIELD gets here," Clint nods.

They both look at James, who looks at Steve. "Come with us?" he asks. (Seventy years ago, Bucky Barnes died. A decade ago, technicians dying around him as a girl he once knew knelt beside him, James began to wake up.)

Steve smiles and nods fervently, saying, "Yes, Bucky, anywhere."

.

"What the fuck!" the Director of SHIELD shouts after he is cognitively recalibrated. (Agent Coulson did not feel a small ounce of smugness as he beat Nick Fury into the ground. Nope. Not even a little.) "Where is Rogers?"

Stark has Jarvis examining any and all footage of the battle; Loki and Thor are preparing to return to Asgardr.

Captain America isn't located in the rubble. There are no witnesses for anything that happened after the portal closed.

"Goddamnit!" Fury says. "We _just_ found him."

."

We've finally IDd the current Head of Hydra," Natasha tells James and Steve. "He's SHIELD."

James leans back, crossing his arms; Steve settles against him. "Alexander Pierce," Clint announces. "Cut him off and the body will fall."

Steve nods firmly. "Let's make a plan, then."

Natasha glances at James as she curls up beside Clint: he meets her eyes and he smiles, and it's one that she does not remember from her girlhood, that she has not seen since she found him again.

Bucky Barnes died when he fell from a train, but it is him she sees now, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh with Steve Rogers (quite possibly the greatest man she has ever known, who should not have fit in so seamlessly with them but did nonetheless) and discussing the best extraction techniques for the leader of SHIELD.

As they break for dinner, Steve mutters, "I fuckin' hate Hydra."

Natasha laughs while James jabs an elbow into Steve's side. "Don't we all, pal."

"C'mon, you idiots, let's order a pizza already," Clint calls from the next room, where he's juggling his phone and three pizza coupons.

She wonders, for just a moment, what would have happened if she'd gone with Clint, joined SHIELD. She shakes it off to announce, "I want spaghetti," smiling at Clint's groaned, "You _know_ I hate spaghetti, Tasha."

"And?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, that place down the street has a little bit of everything, right?" Steve breaks in, herding them all towards the door.

James meets Natasha's gaze again. He looks so content, now. And she is happy. So she presses a kiss to his cheek, squeezes Steve's shoulder as she passes, and grabs for Clint's hand.

Her masters would not recognize the woman she has become, and she is glad.


	95. but only because you were gone

Title: but only because you were gone

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: AU during Winter Soldier; character death; implied violence/torture

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 500

Point of view: third

Prompt: Marvel, dark!Charles Xavier and/or dark!Steve Rogers and/or dark!any-Marvel-character-who-is-usually-depicted-as-sunshine-and-rainbows, Peace was never an option

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><p>"<em>But I knew him," the asset said and Alexander let out a sigh of disgust.<em>

_He stood and looked at Rumlow. "Get rid of it," he ordered. "We need to clean this mess up."_

.

When Captain America sends out the call to arms, there is no Winter Soldier attacking those loyal to SHIELD. There is no Winter Soldier waiting on the helicarrier, so Captain America completes his mission much sooner.

Pierce still dies, loyal to the last, and Natasha still gives Steve a folder 70 years in the making.

.

Steve clears the DC bases first and he finds the cryo-chamber, the chair, and –

Everything happened so quickly that the disposal has yet to take place. It has been a week since the bridge, since Steve saw Bucky and Bucky –

Steve falls to his knees and Sam says, "Oh, fuck," as he steps in behind him.

Two years of thinking Bucky dead, a week of knowing he was alive, and now…

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then rises to his feet. This isn't going to be a rescue anymore. This isn't going to be a gathering of intel, of trying to separate the wheat from the chaff. "Sam," he says, "you might not want to follow me now."

This is going to be wholesale slaughter and there's no one left who will be able to stop him.

.

"Shouldn't we… shouldn't we stop him?" Bruce asks as Tony scans through the latest news report. The media hasn't figured it out; Steve's not carrying the shield anymore.

Tony remembers a cave in Afghanistan, piles of weapons that all had his name.

Natasha and Clint are still in the wind; Fury's off searching for all the hydra's heads. He'll probably run into Steve soon enough. Tony wonders how that will end.

"Be my guest," Tony tells him, "but I'm sure as fuck not getting in his way."

Tony knows how many of the history books are filled with lies, and he grew up on stories of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers.

If Steve asks for help, he might even give it. (He knows Steve won't ask for help. Not for this.)

.

"Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck," Sam chants, following Steve from up high.

Every day, he thinks about telling Steve he's done.

Every day, he doesn't. Because Steve needs someone with him so he doesn't lose himself more than he already has.

Sam survived a war, and then an attempted insurrection on his home turf. He may not survive Steve Rogers' crusade for vengeance.

But he can't leave. He won't.

.

_Brock watched the asset, waiting to see if it would defend itself._

_The asset watched him as all the technicians fled, as the Strike team readied themselves. Brock sighed, grabbed his gun, and aimed between the asset's eyes._

_"I knew him," the asset said; Brock thought it sounded almost **satisfied**, but that couldn't be. The asset didn't feel._

_He pulled the trigger._

_"Deal with this," he ordered the technicians, gesturing for his team to follow him out._


	96. Climb into my arms

Title: Climb into my arms with blood on your clothes

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from "A Glow"

Warnings: violence/death/torture; post-WS

Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings, for sure

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 740

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Steve/+Bucky, Okkervil River - A Glow

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><p>Once upon a time, there were too little boys who grew up hungry and grew up mean. Yeah, Steve's always fought for the underdog, for those who couldn't defend themselves – that doesn't mean he's bright and brilliant and an ideal to strive towards.<p>

Or, well, it wouldn't mean that if Erskine hadn't seen something in him. That same thing Bucky's always seen, the thing that so many people didn't.

Captain America is a mask. There are things he did that never made it into the history books, that are redacted from reports because there are things that Captain America _cannot_ do.

SHIELD believes the history books. You'd think a government agency would know better… you'd think.

.

Winter Soldier goes to ground and begins burning Hydra alive.

Steve Rogers carries the shield because it is _his_ and he uses it offensively because it's cleaner than guns. He uses guns, too.

Sam Wilson grew up on stories of Gabe Jones and Captain America, but it's Steve he's following, not the sanitized hero from the page and the movies and the TV shows.

.

Steve started the fights and Bucky let him go until he couldn't anymore, and then Bucky stepped in to end the fights _very_ decisively. No one went after Steve Rogers twice, because Bucky Barnes was there waiting, and there was a glint in his eye.

Bucky Barnes was always dangerous.

What no one realizes is that so was Steve Rogers.

.

The hero in the history books would hunt down the monster his best friend became. The hero in the history books would understand lost causes and when to cut his losses.

The hero in the history books never existed, and what's left of SHIELD should've known that when they sent a team to clean up Hydra's mess.

Because when they find the Winter Soldier, he's got Captain America fighting beside him, the Falcon covering them from the air, and there are Hydra agents dying around them.

The team lead pulls up short because they can't attack Captain America – and the situation might have been salvaged had one of the agents not fired at the Soldier, a shot that's blocked by that world-famous shield, and from there it's a bloodbath with only one inevitable outcome.

.

"What are you gonna do with me?" the man who was Bucky Barnes a lifetime ago asks as the Falcon lands behind them.

The man who has always been Steve Rogers first and foremost smiles at him, sliding a bloodstained shield onto his back. "What do _you_ wanna do?" he asks.

The man who wants to be Bucky Barnes says, "Sleep."

Steve smiles at him. "Then that's what we'll do."

.

The hero in the history books never existed. He was a mask, created to be propaganda, and he was very successful.

Steve Rogers fought dirty, and he fought hard, and while prisoners were nice for intel, Zola was one of a handful he ever brought in. Considering how that ended, he doesn't believe in prisoners anymore.

The truth is, Bucky Barnes was always dangerous because the only thing he ever fought for was Steve Rogers. They're good men, they really are – but they're not what the history books say, what the Smithsonian says, what SHIELD thought when Captain America was defrosted, or what Hydra believed their weapon Winter Soldier to be.

Two little boys grew up hungry and they grew up mean. And they should have died in the war, as heroes remembered for the very brave and very great things they'd done.

Sam Wilson tries to minimize the damage, but his heart's not in it. All he has to do is imagine Riley being blasted out of the sky, caught by the enemy, and turned into a mindless weapon. He grew up on the stories of Captain America, that propaganda hero who could do no wrong.

He prefers Steve Rogers.

.

"Where do you see this ending?" Fury demands. Sam's not sure why he picked up the phone.

Natasha kicks them a few missions, and Stark's covering their tracks, and Steve's _laughing _and Bucky's _smiling_, and Sam knows that eventually they'll run out of Hydra.

But he knows Steve Rogers, now, and he knows there are always bullies, always underdogs, always people who don't know how to fight for themselves.

So he says honestly, "Bloody and on fire," and then he tosses the phone into the river and catches up to his team.


	97. lay low and watch the bridges burn

Title: lay low and watch the bridges burn

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Black Roses

Warnings: spoilers for Winter Soldier; Clint's got a pottymouth; talk of violence/assassinating

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 695

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint Barton, anything for this song (Black Roses, from Nashville, which I've been listening to on repeat for, like, four days now)

* * *

><p>"Why should we give you a spot here?" Director Fury asked. Clint knows that he should be impressed, that most newbie agents probably wouldn't be vetted by the director himself.<p>

But Clint hasn't slept in nearly three days, and he had all of his ability to be impressed beaten out of him years ago.

He's too tired to bullshit. They'll take him or they won't, and if they want to kill him instead of letting him go (and possibly back to the other side, which, to be real, is a possibility because his services aren't cheap (anymore)), he's too tired to fight his way out.

"Because I'm the best," he says. He doesn't bother tacking on a _sir_ that no one in the room would believe.

Director Fury smiles at him. "Welcome to SHIELD," he says.

...

Clint isn't popular around SHIELD. He doesn't give a shit about that, either. He's got professional pride so he works with teams when needed, and he's so fucking efficient team leaders _beg_ to get him for ops.

He's not being arrogant when he says he's the best. He's just being factual.

Then he's sent after a goddamned ghost and comes back when the little sister he's always wanted.

...

Natasha terrifies everyone except Clint, Coulson, and Fury. Clint sees himself go a little higher in people's eyes, but he just keeps doing his job.

Natasha's got red in her ledger. Clint doesn't bother with that. He did what he did, and if he hadn't, someone else would have. At least he kills quick.

But like all good things in Clint's life, SHIELD ends. It dies a slow death, starting with a wave of blue and a mad god, and then finally choking with Hydra pouring out of every orifice.

After Tasha puts about half of SHIELD's secrets on the web for the world to analyze, Clint sees multiple paths to take. He can go back to being a mercenary, he can get out of the life for good, he can move into Stark's tower and become a superhero or some shit like that – and dozens more. Tasha's ledger is still haunting her, and Clint wants what's best for her, he doesn't want to drag her down. She's on a quest to find herself and he wishes her all the best. If she needs him, she'll call (or text, or email, or tweet, or send a fucking carrier pigeon. Point is, she'll be in contact).

Stark makes sure Clint knows there's a floor with his name on it and then backs off. Natasha's in the wind; Clint leaves a message with Stark for Cap, to let him know that if he needs help hunting his ghost, Clint'll be there.

Clint spends a week in his dive apartment after the whole Hydra reveal. So many roads to choose from – he's not the person he was before SHIELD, but he was never really SHIELD's, either.

He wonders, nursing a bottle of piss-poor beer, what would have happened if Barney had picked him over Jack. If Barney had chosen him over money, over fame. Last he heard, Barney was behind bars somewhere because his partners were traitorous sacks of shit. Clint knows he'd have never betrayed Barney. Fucking idiot.

Good things never last. Maybe he should just see who he is when he's not killing anyone. Not because his ledger's stained with blood, not because he regrets anything he's ever done. But because he's curious.

Who is he when he's by himself?

He crawls out of the bottle on a Wednesday, showers till the water runs cold, and then he heads out to walk around New York, see the sights, watch the tourists.

…

Who is Clint Barton? He's an ex-circus act, an orphan, an ex-brother and then a brother of choice, he's a sniper and a mercenary, he's a minion and a hero –

Tasha once called him a good man. He never believed it, and it never bothered him. Maybe he could be one, though. At least it's something new.

So why the hell not.

…

Tasha calls him when everyone's getting together at Stark's, a year after SHIELD's skin peeled back to show Hydra beneath.

He goes.


	98. the true pleasures of life

Title: the true pleasures of life

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post Cap3

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 155

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, Sharktopus

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><p>After the shitshow that is his (entirely too long) life, the man who once was Bucky Barnes, once was the Winter Soldier, is now James - look, he just really enjoys bad movies, okay? He can't explain it, and Steve doesn't get it because those made-for-TV movies <em>literally<em> hurt his artist's soul, but James...

Damn, he hurt himself, he laughed at Sharknado so hard. He hadn't laughed like that since 1940.

So, yeah. He has Jarvis pull up every godawful movie that exists and he watches them all because he has damn well _earned_ it.

But this one, it's something special. He notices Steve peeking around the corner, and Steve just stares at the screen. "Is that..." he sounds somewhere between fascinated and horrified. "Is that an octopus shark?"

"It's _sharktopus,"_ James corrects with satisfaction. "C'mon, Steve. Give it a try."

Steve heaves the deepest sigh he can and then throws himself down beside James.


	99. before you start a war

Title: They say before you start a war, you better know what you're fighting for

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from "Angel with a Shotgun"

Warnings: talk of animal cruelty and violence/death

Pairings: Natasha/Clint

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 815

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint/Natasha, Angel with a Shotgun

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><p>The few friendlies at SHIELD used to talk about Clint Barton's penchant for strays. He never threw a mission to rescue any dogs, though he came damn close one time and was actually late to the extraction because those douchebags deserved a beating and he delivered it with a stone-cold face and hate in his heart.<p>

SHIELD didn't allow animals in their quarters, so even though he spent his entire life wanting his own dog, he never got one. Before the group home, the neighbors had a dog that loved Clint more than anyone in her own family, and in the group home, there was a stray hanging around till he got hit by a car. In the circus, there were big cats and a few show dogs, but those dogs were mean unless told otherwise and their handler hated Clint for some reason he still doesn't know. And while the cats were cool, they terrified him just as much as they fascinated him.

So, yeah. A thing for strays.

No one had the guts to say anything to his face when he brought the Black Widow home, but he knows they were all thinking it. He knows they thought it was her beauty, or that she'd seduced him into letting her live, that she was playing him, maybe that she'd even turned him and it was all just a con. Maybe that Coulson bringing _him_ in was a con, because he'd been just like Natasha once. (Well, not _just like_ Natasha because she is much better than he'll ever be, but, yeah. Coulson had been sent to kill him.)

Clint Barton is not loyal to organizations. He never has been. He's loyal to Coulson for giving him a chance; he's loyal to Fury for backing Coulson's play when any other director probably would've have him put down, no matter what Coulson said.

Coulson asked him, and Fury demanded to know, why he let the Black Widow live. Why he approached her instead of shooting her from a mile away.

He told Coulson that he saw gentleness in her, that there was something in her wanting another way. He told Fury that she'd be the greatest asset SHIELD ever had, if they gave her even the barest chance.

Natasha, four years after she trusted him, asked, too. He smiled at her and held out a hand, waiting till she moved toward him to touch her, caressing her face with one hand and letting the other rest on her hip. "You gave the last of your food to a hungry mama dog," he told her.

She'd stared at him before her entire face lit up in a true, endearing laugh, the kind utterly unlike her mission laughs.

SHIELD is gone now. Fury and Coulson have both died, though they're both alive again, even though no one's bothered telling Clint. (Well, Natasha told him, when she ordered him to stay gone because the world wasn't safe yet.)

Clint's in Australia, wandering around with no purpose, and there's a stray cattle dog that's been following him (he's named her Tish). He knows that if Natasha needs him, she'll call; he knows that he should be angry about Fury and Coulson both letting him believe they're dead, that he should be _beyond pissed_ about Hydra growing inside SHIELD from the very beginning.

But Clint's never been a company man. He gives his loyalty to people. Coulson and Fury have both broken that loyalty, but he's got Natasha, still.

And he's got a thing for strays. So, late one night, when he wakes up to Tish growling towards the night, he calls, "I've got extra food, you know, if you're hungry." He rubs at Tish's ears till she calms down, and they both watch the man step out of the darkness.

He looks hungry and tired and so damn broken. Clint doesn't ask how the fuck he got from DC to the outback because he knows Natasha and knows that this dude once trained her.

"Hungry?" he asks, nodding toward the packs. "Take your fill. Not like I can't find more."

The man stares at him in silence for a few minutes, but Clint doesn't move and Tish doesn't start growling again, so he finally steps over to the packs and pulls out a sandwich.

In the morning, Clint has two strays following him. It's months before Jimmy (because he's not gonna travel around with "Hey, you") actually holds an entire conversation with Clint, but he's gentle and kind and loving with Tish, and that tells Clint everything he needs to know.

(He lets Natasha know that he's got the goddamned Winter Soldier with hima week after he starts calling the dude Jimmy, and she just replies, _You and your strays._

Clint laughs, and that night, he tells Jimmy the story of how he met Natasha, and Jimmy actually smiles at him.)


	100. a little white church

Title: As alone as a little white church in the middle of the desert getting burned

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Fall Out Boy

Warnings: AU during Winter Soldier; mentions of torture/death/brainwashing

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 2040

Point of view: third

Note: I hope the pronoun use doesn't get confusing.

Prompt: Okay, so we know that MCU Steve used to be colour-blind. It's inconvenient in a world where there are intangible strings connecting you to the most significant people in your life. Your romantic soul-mate, your best friend, your mentor, etc. And they're all different colours. But Steve can't even see that the string connecting him to his best friend is the red of romantic soul-mates. And Bucky doesn't consider that Steve just can't tell; just assumes that Steve doesn't want him as a lover, so he sticks with friendship. And Steve thinks that whatever the string is connecting him to Bucky is the best friend colour, so...

Then after the serum, Steve can see the world in colour! But he doesn't know where Bucky is. But... colour! Now, if only he actually knew which of these colours is red... Because no one actually bothers to teach him what the colours look like. The grass is green, right? (Except they happen to in a place where the grass is brown from not being watered.) The sky is blue? (Except it's sunset, so the sky is actually purple and yellow and pink and cloudy.)

So when Steve and Bucky are back together again, Steve is still in the dark, and so happy about finding his best friend that he doesn't even think about asking what colour their string is. Best friends, right? So that's [insert colour]. (Which becomes inconvenient when he thinks that someone's blood is the wrong colour, because that's the friendship colour, and true love is red, just like blood is red, and... oh.)

And then Bucky dies. Steve studies up on the colours, angsts, crashes his plane, wakes up seventy years later, and so on.

The Winter Soldier knows about the colours from conversations he's heard, and he knows that the star on his metal arm is red. Red is for true love. So why is this man with a shield connected to him with the red string of fate?

TL,DR: Colour-blind!Steve doesn't realise that the string connecting him to Bucky is red, and doesn't study up on the colours until after Bucky dies. Years later, the Winter Soldier sees a red string connecting him to his enemy.

* * *

><p>He never loses color, though he does not know what they <em>mean<em>. Grass is green, the sky is blue, his left arm and hand are silver, the star on his silver shoulder and blood are both red, his skin is a pale peach save for the silver arm, he is always clothed in black. There are bands around his wrists, fine as hair, that are as red as blood, and they chain him to the technicians and the handlers and the ever-changing men who give the orders he must follow. There is one band, on his right wrist, that is not red – it is a blue so faded it barely has any color at all. He does not know what it means. He does not ask.

.

The target, Steven Grant Rogers, has blue eyes. They fight, evenly matched, and the blue band on his wrist glows so brightly it is blinding – but he does not hesitate or flinch or give way at all, even as it burns. The target hesitates, for just a moment, eyes going to his own wrist, the left, but then he is down, mask falling from his face, and when he turns, the target's blue _blue _eyes widen and a string of that same blue goes from his right wrist to the target's left.

"Bucky?" the target asks, eyes wide, mouth open, and the world drops away for just one moment as his eyes follow the blue string.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he asks in the same language as the target, and each word hits like a bullet, the target flinching.

Then the target's allies (one of them a target herself) come to his aid, and so he runs.

The blue string follows.

.

Red shackles bind him to the technicians, to the handlers, to the guards with their guns, to the man demanding a report. The man who slaps him.

The target's eyes were blue. There is a single string of blue around his right wrist, and it stretches out of the room. He could follow it to the target, to Steven Grant Rogers, ask who _Bucky_ is.

He asks, "The man on the bridge… who was he?"

The answer he is given is a lie. The bands of red thicken, gleaming like blood. He follows the strings; every single person in the room has red on their wrists. Red as his star.

"But I knew him," he says.

The bands of red thicken.

The technicians have harmed him more than he can remember. The guards have hurt him even when he followed orders, even though he never fought back. (He could fight back.) The man with the orders – he _lied_.

What does red mean? Red as his star, red as blood, red as… a skull? That is…

"Prep him," the man says, and one of the technicians argues, and the red is thickening into rivers, the target's eyes were _blue_, so blue, blue as the sky, blue as the band shining on his right wrist –

He looks at them all, the guards with their guns, the technicians with their fear, the man who _lied_, and then he moves.

No one in this room is a threat, is anywhere near as fast or as strong, and one by one, the red bands around his wrists drip to the floor.

The technicians try shouting, but he does not listen; the man with the orders, too, but he does not hear over the screams, over the guns roaring. They all die.

There are other red strings, stretching throughout the building. He follows them until there are no red strings left, only the blue, gleaming brightly.

He must follow the blue string, but first he must blend in. He searches the building seeking clothes and finds garments that are an ill-fit but also do not stand out the way his tactical gear does.

Around his right wrist, the blue pulses gently. He does not know what it means, but he finds it soothing. He arms himself and then he follows the blue string.

.

The target, Steven Grant Rogers, is standing on a bridge, staring at the horizon. There is a blue string around his wrist, glowing bright against the spreading darkness as the sun sets.

"What does blue mean?" he asks, and the target – no longer the target? – Rogers turns, those blue eyes so wide.

"Bucky?" Rogers says, stepping towards him, but he falls back, left hand on one of his guns. "Okay, okay, easy," Rogers says, holding his hands up, stepping back.

"What does blue mean?" he asks again after a moment, letting his hand fall away from the gun.

"I… I asked you that, once," Rogers answers. "I, I'd been colorblind, you know, so after the serum, when I found you again, I saw that we matched. Not every match – there's colors for deep friendship, for family, for enemies, and then for, for…" Rogers' voice trails off, those blue eyes staring at him. He stares back. "I asked you what the blue meant, the morning after I found you, and you said it meant we were brothers."

Every word sounds like the truth, and Rogers has tears streaming down his face.

"What does red mean?" he asks.

Rogers closes his eyes, inhales sharply. "For us," he says, voice suddenly a bit thick, "it always meant enemies."

He nods firmly. That fits.

But – "The strings between you and your allies were green. What does that mean?"

Rogers stares at him again, blue eyes wide. Then Rogers smiles, so happily that he steps back again in shock. "Bucky," he says, "oh, Bucky, I missed you so much."

He does not know how to reply, so he remains silent. Rogers continues, "Green means friends, true friends. The Commandos were green."

"Blue is family?" he asks, glancing away from Rogers long enough to verify they are still alone. They are.

Rogers shakes his head. "Ma was violet, you told me. So were your folks and your little sisters."

That does not fit. "Then what is blue?"

Rogers' smile is shaky, now, and there are more tears on his face but he does not wipe them away. The sun has fully set, the blue bands on their wrists nearly blinding in the night. "The colors are different for everybody. Only… only soulmates share colors. You can find love without them, that's what people say. You and I, Bucky…" He brings his left hand up to his face, rubs at his cheek. "You told me we'd always been blue. That we were brothers, friends for life. 'til the end of the line."

He steps forward. The blue is pulsing gently and he tries to touch the river between them but his fingers slide through it, and he looks back at Rogers' blue eyes. "Then it would be green," he says, and Rogers nods slowly.

"I killed them," he says, "everyone who was red."

Rogers jerks his head up. "Do you know their names?"

He knows all of their names. He lists them alphabetically in the language they've been speaking, and when he gets to _Pierce, Alexander_, Rogers lets out a little sound of shock, so he pauses.

"Bucky," Rogers says, "can you come to the team with me? They need to know this."

_Bucky_. It sounds blue. It's better than being nameless.

"If any of them are red," Bucky says, "I will kill them."

"They weren't red for me," Rogers tells him. "I don't think they'll be red for you."

Bucky simply looks at him in silence. Rogers finally nods. "But let me try to talk first, okay?"

They stand on the bridge in silence until Bucky nods. He slowly steps closer, reaching with his right hand, and Rogers, even more slowly, reaches out his left hand. When their fingers touch, the blue explodes, streaking up their arms in a bright bolt of warmth to their hearts, before returning to the bands around their wrists.

Rogers laughs; it sounds a little broken. "It did that the first time we ever met," he says, fingers tight around Bucky's. "You told me it was blue, just like my eyes, and I trusted you. I've always trusted you."

Bucky… Bucky gently tugs him forward, wanting contact that does not hurt, and Rogers seems to understand. He slowly puts his free arm around Bucky's back, tucking their joined hands up against their chests. He whispers, "I saw how blue your eyes were, after I got you out. I knew then, Bucky." His face is buried in Bucky's shoulder and he says again, "I knew then."

.

None of Rogers' team are red, though one of them should be dead.

None of Rogers' team trust him, but he sees now that one of the allies, the woman with red hair, has a slight green string that connects to a barely-there band on his left wrist. He stares at it, then her, while Rogers explains a convoluted, unbelievable story.

Bucky stands quietly beside him, their fingers still tangled together, the blue still pulsing warmly.

"Oh, what the fuck ever," the not-dead target finally says. "We're still breathing, so I guess he's friendly now."

"Sir," the other woman says, "We can't just –"

"Hill," Nicholas Joseph Fury says, "we don't have any choice." His eye flicks to Bucky and Rogers' joined fingers. "We'll have to trust that Cap knows what he's doing."

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff (that name is not right, _not right_, how does he know that?) smiles at them, eyes following that green string. She says nothing, but her hands are empty. Rogers' other ally just shakes his head, sighing.

As they fight their way to the helicarriers, Bucky stays with Rogers. The loyal SHIELD agents help from the air and on the ground; the first chip is successfully exchanged and so they make their way to the remaining helicarrier.

It is perhaps the easiest mission Bucky can remember. He doesn't trust it.

When the agents attack out of nowhere, he is not surprised. Angry, yes, but not at all surprised. "Go!" he shouts at Rogers, immediately on the offensive, and Rogers hesitates for just a moment before steeling himself and hurrying towards the targeting system.

The agents are clearly more than human, but they are also young. They are fast and they are strong – he's faster and stronger. He beats them all into the ground and then Rogers is back, and he shouts, "We have to get out of here, Bucky!" so Bucky hurries to his side, leaving them where they fell. Some of them are even still alive.

"Hill, fire!" Rogers barks into the com, his left hand reaching for Bucky. "C'mon!" he tells Bucky, throwing his shield at one of the large glass panes. "Jump!"

They fall together.

.

"What will be done with me?" Bucky asks Rog-_Steve_. They are sitting in Sam Wilson's house, with Fury, Hill, Romanoff, and Wilson. Someone named Stark is currently arguing with Fury over the phone; someone named Coulson is having a discussion with Hill, also over the phone. Romanoff and Wilson are discussing places she should go on her quest for self-discovery.

(Bucky's hearing is much better than anyone but Steve suspects.)

Steve's hand is warm in his, both bathed in blue. "You were a prisoner of war, Bucky," Steve says. "Absolutely nothing will be done with you."

Bucky notices the way Fury's head turns slightly at that. Steve's fingers squeeze Bucky's gently. "Anyone who wants you," he says, loud enough for the whole room to hear, "will have to go through me."

The blue pulses in time with their heartbeats. Bucky nods, leaning in closer, and decides to trust that Steve will not lie to him.

.

Bucky remembers blue and red and purple and green – he remembers a little boy with the bluest eyes, and the blue around both their wrists, left to right, and how he knew that they'd be together forever.

He remembers the oceans of red, the decades he didn't know what it meant.

And he remembers –

He remembers where Hydra hides. The body is writhing without a head, while a dozen surviving top-tier agents try to assume control.

He's giving himself missions, now, and he's got Steve Rogers with him. Hydra doesn't have a chance.


	101. figures dancing gracefully

Has been moved to its own series.


	102. Twirling down time's corridors

Title: Twirling down time's corridors I see your shadow dancing

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Olga Levertoff

Warnings: Spoilers for everything 'til WS. Memory issues, sadness, talk of violence.

Pairings: Clint/Natasha, a little implied Steve/Bucky, past-Natasha/Bucky if you read it as such

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 720

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint/Natasha +/ Bucky, If Bucky was her Winter Soldier, then Clint was her summer soldier

* * *

><p>At first, after Odessa, as she floats in and out of consciousness, she remembers him in dreams. He had no name, but his hands were strong, his eyes cold, and his body warm as he danced with her.<p>

But it was a dream, only a dream, because Natasha has never been a dancer.

.

Clint cuts a mission short, ignores his handler's complaints, and arrives merely a day after SHIELD pulls Natasha from the wreckage.

(She knows it was the Winter Soldier, but does not say it – the Winter Soldier is a myth.

She also knows she should be dead. But she lives, and she dreams of dancing.)

Clint takes her home and smothers her with affection. She is unused to the care, to the gentleness, to the rage on her _behalf_ - he promises to find whoever it was, put a bullet in the bastard's eye. Natasha listens in silence and when Clint's rage is spent, she curls up in his lap, rests her head on his shoulder, and sleeps.

She dreams of dancing. Of blue eyes, of a warm hand and a cold one, of murmured songs in English, and being called _sweetheart_ in a soft voice.

There is much she does not remember, and less she trusts. But - _I knew him_, she thinks, waking in Clint's arms, watching the sunlight spread across the room. _I knew him._

_._

Captain America is found, the tesseract taken, Clint _stolen_. Natasha brings in Bruce Banner, Thor arrives on his own, and though Loki opens a portal, Natasha closes it.

Even after SHIELD's psychics release Clint, there are still those in authority who want to punish him for the entire thing. And Natasha wants to take him and run, to protect him, but instead she tells him to go to ground somewhere, to stay out of sight, and she remains with SHIELD to ensure his safety.

And then – "Fast, strong, had a metal arm," Steve Rogers tells her while Nick Fury dies.

"A ghost," she says. She thinks, _I knew him_.

.

James Buchanan Barnes. The American. The Winter Soldier.

"Bucky?" Steve says, and Natasha's got a bullet in her shoulder, and those eyes –

But he doesn't even look at her. She's dreamed of him for years and he's only staring at Steve, but his face –

And he's gone.

.

There is no time to call Clint.

Someone drags Steve, half-dead, onto the shore of the Potomac. Natasha makes the best decision she can with the little time she's given, and she knows that people will die. But more will live. She cannot – there is so much red and it will never be washed clean, but she does her best because it is _all_ she can do.

She hands Steve a file full of horrors that echo in her memory and then she runs to Clint.

.

"Can you tell me?" he asks, arms wrapped around her, his voice gentle in her ear. His back is to the window; she faces the door. She cannot look at him, at anyone, until –

"I was Natalia," she says. "I danced." The words pour out, half-sentences in a dozen languages, and Clint listens, fingers stroking along her stomach.

When she at last falls silent, he presses a kiss to the back of her neck. She does not cry. She never cries.

.

Natasha Romanoff meets Bucky Barnes on a warm spring day. He's standing just behind and to the side of Steve, while she's holding Clint's hand.

There is much she does not remember, that she never will. She knows it is more than he has.

He meets her eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze and leaning a little closer to Steve.

"Hi," she says after the silence grows awkward. "I'm Natasha."

"Bucky," he says back.

.

A very long time ago, when he had no name, she was still Natalia. She thinks they danced.

But there is much she doesn't know.

Now, she curls up on the couch in her room in Stark's tower, and Clint stretches out beside her, his head in her lap, and she has Jarvis stream ballet to the screen. She can still feel another man's hands on her, gentle and strong, but she will never ask if he remembers.

She smiles at Clint, holds his hand, and looks to the future.


	103. it's so fluffy!

Title: it's so fluffy!

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-WS by a lot

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 275<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint +/any, The Carnival Job [Leverage]

* * *

><p>"I thought we were banned from fairs?" James asks him, hands tucked into his pockets, hair windblown and loose, and looking at him makes Clint feel <em>old<em>. He's in his forties now. Fuck. When did that happen?

"You gonna tell?" he asks, shaking it off. So what if he never expected to survive his twenties? He's that awesome.

"No," James says, looking around with curiosity. How long's it been since he did something just because it was _fun_? Probably not in Clint's lifetime.

Tasha's gonna kill him for taking James out without permission, but Clint knows about mistrust and trying to earn redemption, and this kid – he spends most of his time in his head, tucked away somewhere, and Clint knows that's not the way to get better.

So here they are at a carnival upstate, with the rigged games and the sugar comas and the dangerous rides. There's a little girl crying two rows over, tugging at her dad's shirt, and he's arguing with the guy about guns that don't shoot right.

Clint raises any eyebrow. "How about a friendly wager?" he asks.

James glances at him. He really does look like he's twenty, max. It's gotta be the fluffy hair. Or the anime eyes. One of 'em. "And what's that?" He looks awake and alive, here. Clint pats himself on the back.

"Whoever wins the most prizes for the little kids gets to pick where we go for dinner," Clint says. "And whoever wins the least has to pay for it."

James smiles, soft and slow. "You're on."

Yeah. Tasha's gonna kick his ass for this, but it'll be worth it, for that smile alone.


	104. what history knows

Title: what history knows

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: Talk of brainwashing/torture/violence/death/mayhem. Post-Cap2.

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 780

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any/any, Everyone Says I Love You [Revolution]

* * *

><p>In his dreams, he is young and laughing. In his nightmares, he is cold and alone. In his waking moments, he is scared and angry and in pain.<p>

He prefers the dreams.

.

History does not say much about Bucky Barnes. He is a footnote in Captain America's story.

History says less about the Winter Soldier: it is a ghost.

.

Ghosts fade away. So does the Winter Soldier. The longer it is awake, the longer it runs and hides, the more a man appears, a man with opinions and wants and feelings. The asset felt nothing. The man feels _everything_. But if he ever knew what to do with emotions, the knowledge was stolen long ago.

And that makes him _angry_.

.

History says that Bucky Barnes was Captain America's closest friend, his brother.

The man's memories say the same, but there is more to the story. There always is.

.

In his dreams, he is young and laughing with a tiny blond boy. The boy calls him by _that_ name, and puts an arm around him, and tells him to be more careful, that luck'll run out eventually.

In his dreams, he says, "Stevie, don't you know that luck's always on our side?" and he laughs and laughs and laughs.

.

In his nightmares, he slaughters entire cities. Families. Bloodlines and nations and continents. He kills people he doesn't know for people he fears and hates, but he never slows and he never stops.

In his nightmares, he has no name and is only a weapon, and he wakes with the certainty that he will never allow anyone power over him again.

.

In his waking moments, he keeps moving. The asset saw everything, even if it didn't know how to process the information. It stored years of knowledge and the man knows how to access it, how to analyze it, how to hunt and track and slaughter everyone who had a hand in the asset's creation and maintenance.

In his waking moments, he is more than a ghost – he is wrath, he is ruin, he is vengeance… and he does not slow, and he does not stop. He was their puppet for 70 years, but he is a man, now. He is a man, but he knows everything the puppet knew, the skills and the intel, and he has nothing but time.

.

In his dreams, there is a boy who loves him. In his nightmares, there is a man he kills.

In his waking moments, there is a man following him with the boy's eyes, and the man calls him by _that_ name.

.

History knows that Bucky Barnes loved Captain America. History is wrong.

Bucky Barnes loved _Steve Rogers_ with everything in him, as a friend and as a brother and as the other half of his soul.

.

He leaves a note at the smoking ruin, pinned to one of the scientist's bloody forehead. _Go home._

The boy from his dreams, the man from his nightmares, leaves a note in return, and he comes back two days later to read it. _No. Not without you._

_._

Bucky Barnes died in the snow. The Winter Soldier never lived at all.

He waits for the boy to catch up because he wants to _live_.

.

"Call me James," he says, checking his gear to keep his hands busy because he's nervous. He doesn't like it. It seems like a silly thing to be.

"I'm Steve," the boy from his dreams replies. He glances up to see the man's smile – but the boy is still there. The boy is always there.

.

A lifetime ago, with a team, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers made Hydra's mission extremely difficult. Since then, they have both become even more dangerous.

Before, a lifetime ago, with a team, they had a war to worry about, superiors to placate, ideals like _honor_ and _integrity_ to uphold.

.

"You want the honors?" Steve asks, holding out the lighter.

James takes it with a smile.

.

In his dreams, he is young and laughing, and there is a boy who loves him. In his nightmares, he beats a man bloody and never looks back.

In his waking moments, he is with the greatest man in the world, and he is happy and alive.

.

History knows that Bucky Barnes died in the mountains. History is not wrong. Bucky Barnes died young and afraid and alone.

But James is riding shotgun in a stolen truck, as Steve explains about something called American Idol, and when he speaks, Steve _listens_, and they plan together, they share a bed, they eat the same food and enjoy the same music, and James cannot remember a better time than this.


	105. masks

Title: masks

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Cap2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 300

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, any +/ any, s/he's around somewhere. You just won't see them unless they want you to. Or you're on their list.

* * *

><p>She's sitting in a pretentious coffee shop, reading a pretentious book, wearing pretentious clothes, with her hair up pretentiously, and ignoring her partner's snotty comments through the com.<p>

She doesn't know he's there until he's leaning over the table, saying, "Wow, babe, it's been such a long time!" and she looks up into those ice-blue eyes.

"Yes, yes, it has!" she exclaims, reaching up to wrap her arms around him. She steals his knife at the same moment he steals hers, but they both sit back down, looking like old friends.

(They _are_ old friends, is the thing. And enemies. And everything in between.)

He asks about her book; she comments on his hair. Idle chitchat.

Her partner wants to know if she needs back-up; she gives him the passcode that means _safe; stay_.

"So, what are you up to?" he asks, a smirk in his eyes.

(It's been a year. Steve's still raging around the world, blowing things up.)

"Oh, this and that," she says as her target stands up. She flicks her eyes toward him; her companion follows the gaze and nods.

"I'll leave you to it, then," he says. He rises to his feet and leans down to kiss her cheek. "You've grown up well," he murmurs in the first language she knew. "I'm proud of you."

(What does she remember? Not as much as she wishes. More than she likes.)

She doesn't return his knife; he doesn't offer hers back. Instead, he says, in _his_ first language, "Tell our mutual friend that he's a goddamned punk and to get his ass home."

"I will," she promises. She doesn't watch him leave.

In her com, Clint says, "Tell me that wasn't..."

She chuckles, dropping a five on the table as a tip and sauntering after her target.


	106. deracinate

Title: deracinate

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mayhem/vengeance; aftermath of torture/brainwashing

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 425

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Winter Soldier, to tear something up by the roots

* * *

><p>To say that he is blindly striking out is wrong. He's following a map that's burned into his mind because he saw everything without knowing what he saw. They spoke around him without censure because whatever mind he had was burned out of him twice a week, if he was awake long enough. He heard nothing in cryo, of course, and he did not dream (does not remember if he dreamed), but...<p>

The path he's on has been seventy years in the making. The people he's executing now weren't alive at the beginning, but they die all the same. They all die the same.

Two heads will appear when one is lopped off; he remembers hearing that the first time he went after Hydra, side by side with his friends and brothers and Steve.

They knew what they had, those fuckers who froze and cut and burned him. Is that why they made it hurt so much?

He makes it hurt more. Some beg. Some curse. Some stare blankly at their death, and some cry. He doesn't hesitate or flinch or rethink any of it.

He knows now that some part of him was awake the whole time. Why else would the asset remember everything Bucky Barnes needs to know? Why else would the asset not protest or fight against Bucky Barnes' crusade?

A few of them shout code-phrases at him, and inside him, the asset doesn't even flicker. He smiles at them, kills them, burns the facilities, and salts the earth.

There is a map the asset has been marking for seventy years. There are secrets the asset heard and stored away.

The path he's on is erratic and makes no sense, and he knows that's the only reason he's not being followed. But he'll go home when it's done. If there's still a home to go to.

But he's been fantasizing about this since the beginning, since the first cut, the first injection, the first burn – they made it hurt because he'd fought beside Steve. Because he was Steve's.

He makes it hurt so much more because he was _theirs_ and he remembers every single moment he was awake, now. He remembers it all.

He knows where the heads are growing because he was never truly mindless, deep down.

(He gets it, now. He won't ever tell, not even to Steve. But it's not Bucky Barnes going after Hydra this time. The asset _is_ him and always was.)

He died trying to wipe Hydra off the map and they resurrected him.

They shouldn't have.


	107. there's really no difference

Title: there's really no difference in who he was once

Disclaimer: not my characters; title and prompt from "Just Be Simple" by Songs: Ohia

Warnings: modern-day AU; talk of violence/death

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1405

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, _and everything you hated me for, honey, there was so much more - I just didn't get busted_

* * *

><p>They get out of the army together and then just - fade away. He wakes up one day from dreams of blood and screams and Bucky's gone.<p>

He looks. Of course he does. But Bucky doesn't want to be found.

.

He joins the FBI because he has to do something. He can't just drink away the grief and the guilt; he needs to get out of the apartment and do _something._ He ends up with the BAU.

He hates it. But he's doing _good_ and does anything matter but that?

(He asks their tech goddess to find Bucky. She tries and can't. Bucky doesn't want to be found. Natasha and the boys tell him that's a message of its own. Steve ignores them.)

.

He gets the first postcard on the anniversary of the day they got out. He gets the second on the anniversary of the day he woke up alone.

He wants to believe he doesn't know what it means.

.

Bucky Barnes was everything Steve Rogers wanted to be: handsome, charming, so fucking smart. Bucky thought he was a good-for-nothing punk, but Steve knew that Bucky was the best guy in the world.

Eventually, he convinced Bucky that he believed it. Bucky always said, though, that Steve was the greatest thing in the whole wide world, not him. Steve was brilliant and bright and brave. Steve was going places. Bucky just wanted to go with him.

Saps, the pair of them. So young and so in love. So stupid.

.

They're both good at killing. Bucky's better. Bucky's always been better at everything except hoping. That… he's never been good at. That's what he needed Steve for.

.

Bucky doesn't want to be found. Steve can't give up looking.

_I left so you'd be happy_, the first postcard said.

The second said, in that scrawl from their shared school notebooks, in the loveletters he always tore up before Steve saw them, _Don't._

.

"Steve?" Penelope says one morning, peering into his cubicle. "I… I think you need to see this."

.

Bucky used to take punches for Steve, kicks and curses, once a beer bottle. He took three bullets and shrapnel so that Steve could carry them both out.

Bucky only joined the army because Steve did.

.

"I... is it him?" Penelope asks, wringing her hands, watching Steve with sorrow and regret her gaze.

.

If Bucky had only asked…

.

"Thank you," Steve says. "Thank you so much for looking. But it's not."

Morgan pops in, gives Steve a raised eyebrow, and then tells Penelope, "Wheels up in ten, baby girl."

Steve leaves silently, waits till the end of the day to put in a request for vacation time, goes back to his silent apartment, packs up his weapons, and locks the door behind him.

.

It's been three years. Three years alone and twenty-six before that with Bucky in sight and reach and hearing. Three years praying that Bucky stayed safe, stayed happy, stayed _free._

Bucky's always thought Steve was the better man. _You're the good one, Rogers_, he slurred, late one night, drunk and on pain-killers. Something dark in his eyes, his tone.

Steve didn't agree, not ever, not even once.

.

They're both good at killing. Steve doesn't like to, not really. He just wanted to do good in the world. Protect his home. If he'd known what it'd do to Bucky…

But he didn't know.

.

Ignorance is no excuse. Not for what it cost Bucky.

.

_They said I've got a talent_, Bucky told him, four months in. _There's this program they want me to go into._

_Will you?_ Steve asked.

_No,_ Bucky said. And he didn't.

He kept getting loaned out, though. Always came back a little quieter. A little colder.

There is so much Steve would do differently.

.

"I need a favor," Steve says, driving away from DC.

"Name it," Natasha says.

.

Bucky's waiting for him. There's nowhere else he needs to be. Nowhere else he iwants/i to be. They met at pre-k and never looked back.

_I left so you'd be happy,_ Bucky wrote, and that he left at all shows he utterly fucked up he is. How could he have thought Steve would ever want to be without him? _Happy _without him?

No.

.

"This is a bad idea," Tasha's guy Stark says. "I'm pretty sure that assassins don't like being tracked."

"Then he shouldn't have left," Steve says and Stark heaves the world's largest sigh.

"Fine," he says. "But if the long-lost assassin kills me, I'm haunting you."

.

Sam, Clint, all the boys – they all have advice, ideas, words of caution.

"I know you're gone for him," Sam says, and Steve knows he's trying for comforting, but Sam sounds worried, instead. "But he left for a reason."

"He left because he's trying to protect me from himself, and that's just stupid, Sam," Steve says. "I've gotta go. Call you later."

"Yeah, Rogers, sure," Sam says, and they both know it's goodbye.

.

He wakes up to Bucky crouched over him, hands around his throat. "You goddamned idiot," Bucky hisses, grip tightening. "Why the fuck didn't you stay at home?"

Steve scoffs as best he can. "It's not home," he says, bringing his hands up to cover Bucky's. "Not without you."

.

Bucky stepped in when Steve faltered, taught him to throw a punch, told him to dodge, to run, to save himself.

_I'm a dead man walking, Stevie_, he gasped while Steve dragged him away, tried to cover him, swore to God with everything in him that if Bucky lived –

_Please, please, please_, Steve whispered, clutching the beacon as tight as he could. _Please, Bucky, don't leave me here alone_.

.

They're both good at killing. Bucky said once, halfway through their first tour, back before they both got transferred to spec ops, that he's never been so good at anything else.

That should've been Steve's first clue. He should've figured it out then, saved Bucky from this, somehow.

But he didn't see it then. And he can't change it now.

.

"Trying to save me, Rogers?" Bucky asks with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, throwing a can of Coke to Steve.

"I'm with you, Barnes," Steve says, setting the Coke down. "Always. 'til the end."

Bucky laughs, but it's bitter and cold. "And how do you see this ending?"

Steve shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

.

When they were kids, fourth or fifth grade, Steve wanted to be a comic book artist. Bucky wanted to be an astronaut.

In eighth grade, Steve decided he'd be a soldier like his dad. It wasn't till his growth spurt right before graduation, though, that it actually seemed possible.

Bucky followed him. Pulled him out of trouble. Watched his back, saved his life.

Steve owes him so much, but that's not why he's here. Not why he looked, not why he stays.

.

Bucky lays it plain as cruel as he can. Steve knows it's because Bucky's trying to protect him. Wants him go back to DC, to the FBI. Bucky's never thought he was worth anything. Has never believed Steve when Steve says he _is._

Bucky is an assassin. He doesn't care about why someone wants a target dead. Doesn't care about race, sex, or age. Doesn't ask questions. Plans it all out, carries through, sends proof, gets paid, moves on.

He looks Steve straight in the eye and waits for the rage, the disgust, the shame that Steve could've ever loved him.

"Bucky," Steve sighs, "I knew all that before I got here."

.

When they were kids, Steve knew they'd live forever. When they were twenty-three, Steve knew they'd die together on a mission, each trying to save the other.

When they are thirty-two, Steve knows they'll die badly for someone's revenge.

It doesn't matter. Bucky left to keep him safe, but when they're away from each other, there's no one watching their backs.

(Natasha and Stark have muddled things. The guys will all lie through their teeth if questioned.

Steve wonders how long it took Penelope to start tracking him. If she'll take it to someone higher up or if she'll let it go.)

.

"I didn't want this for you," Bucky murmurs into Steve's skin, hands warm and strong and so perfect. "You could be something great, Stevie. So much better than me."

"All I want is to be with you," Steve tells him, gently raising Bucky's chin. "That's all I've ever wanted."

He wishes with everything in him that Bucky believed it.


	108. aren't you proud?

Title: aren't you proud?

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: talk of violence/death/bad things happening to children

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 300<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Natasha, Little girls shouldn't play with matches

* * *

><p><em>Be careful<em>, no one ever told her.

_Watch out for sparks_, was never said.

Nobody warned her, and that is on their heads.

.

She burnt them down when she left. She salted the earth so that nothing would ever grow there again. Any who escaped did not last long because she hunted and she found.

_I am what you made me,_ she told the last of them. _Aren't you proud?_

Little death-dealer, all grown up and standing tall. Little death-dealer, with hate in her eyes and rage in her heart.

Little-dealer, knife in hand, who was taught to never listen to screaming and begging and pleading from dying throats.

_Aren't you proud?_

.

She is the spark.

When the man sent to kill her offers another way, she watches his eyes. He honestly believes what he is saying.

She wonders who taught him. She wonders how quickly he learned.

.

She is meant to burn, flame for hair and fire in hand. She is the spark. But she'll leash it, for now, she'll atone for everything she did, everything she was created for –

_You can't ever erase it,_ Clint told her, _but you can cover it up with good_. And he believes that. He really does.

She sometimes wonders what he's covering up.

.

The end of the world comes; she closes the door.

Her fresh start is revealed to be rotten to the core; she sheds every skin she's ever worn.

She was made for burning. Steve has a crusade that she could help with, could guide him to the end, could counsel and guard the ghost she barely remembers –

But no. She is the spark and she has burnt down. She does not know – who is she without the masks? Who is she without killing, without violence?

She wants to know.


	109. the old year is ending in the frost

Title: the old year is ending in the frost

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Warnings: post-Cap2; talk of violence/torture

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 530

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Bucky/+any or gen, _he knows it's impossible to tell a wolf from a man if he keeps his chin up and his teeth clean _

* * *

><p>Steve tells him that the Winter Soldier is not who he is but what he was made to do. Hydra scooped Bucky Barnes out and poured their weapon in and they ripped him apart until he had no fight left, and it's not his fault, never was his fault, will never have been his fault, and Steve will beat the shit out of anyone who says otherwise.<p>

He never says otherwise but he thinks it.

.

In Brooklyn, when they were kids, Bucky finished the fights that Steve started. He also finished the fights that never started because by the time they were fifteen or so, most of the boys and men of the neighborhoods they frequented (and the kids at school, too) knew that Steve Rogers was off limits, no matter what stupid shit he said.

Steve is the best guy in the world, but he's also damned oblivious.

.

There are many things Bucky did in Brooklyn to keep Steve safe, to keep his sisters fed, to keep Ma from worrying, Dad from working too long.

He never asks about it because he's almost certain Steve had no idea, and it's not in any of the books he's read. But the Winter Soldier was not fully Hydra's creation. (He doesn't want Steve to know.)

.

They didn't scoop all of him out. Just the parts that would never have fought for them. Just the parts that would ask questions, demand answers, blitz his way out and go home.

They kept the part that never flinched from blood, from necessary actions. They kept the part that wanted to be loyal to _something_. (All of the asset's handlers were blond because Zola knew his subject well.)

.

Steve tells him that he doesn't have to be a weapon anymore. No more missions, no more fighting, no more blood and death and violence. Steve tells him they can go anywhere in the world, do anything he wants.

Steve tells him he's so happy, and he holds on at night, when they both wake up screaming.

.

The asset was an elegant weapon shaped like a man. It was brutal when required, efficient, meticulous. There was only collateral damage when ordered. The asset did no more and no less than commanded and its handlers thought that meant it was a tool of mindless obedience.

The asset was not mindless. But loyalty under duress is no loyalty at all, and some parts of Bucky Barnes were always there, beneath the surface, waiting.

.

Steve asks him, "What do you want?"

He doesn't know.

.

The newly-purged SHIELD wants him to fight for them. He has always fought and never for himself. When he tells Steve, "I don't want to fight anymore," Steve nods and smiles and goes to the new director's office.

He doesn't say, "I'll only ever fight for you." That's been true since Brooklyn. It'll always be true.

.

He wakes up. Steve's behind him, tucked in close, arms tight around him, hands clasped in his.

When he squeezes Steve's hand, Steve wakes up, and he says, "My name is Bucky. Let's get out of here."

.

Steve tells him they can go anywhere.

Bucky picks west and they go.


	110. I knew you before you were strong

Title: I knew you before you were strong

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Cap2; talk of violence; stream of consciousness

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 450<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, a superhero is just a monster aimed in a different direction

* * *

><p>Deep down, in the quiet place that screams at night when he can't sleep, Steve knows. He knew when he was little, before the serum gave him power; he knew in Europe, when Hydra was all he thought about, making them stop and then burning them down. He knew when he woke up and Fury's people gave him history lessons and trusted that he wouldn't be able to figure out enough to find information on his own. He knew after Loki and the invasion; he knew when he signed up with SHIELD in place of the SSR.<p>

He knows when the mask falls off of Fury's killer. He knows when he wakes up in the hospital.

Steve knows he can't trust anyone but himself - and Bucky.

Bucky, who might or might not be a lost cause, depending on who you ask.

Steve's not asking anybody. The world gave up on Bucky once before; _Steve_ gave up when he delivered Zola instead of going back. That is a mistake he will never make again and it doesn't matter who gets in the way.

Nothing matters but finding Bucky, making sure he's okay, protecting him, helping him...

Steve knows what he's capable of, both physically and mentally. He was a clever little shit before the serum and the serum improved _everything_. No, he's not as smart as Tony Stark, or as savvy as Natasha – but he doesn't need to be. And Bucky…

Bucky.

God, he just wants to tear things apart, burn everything down, make someone pay and pay and _pay_ until there's some relief in his bones.

Steve wasn't the idea guy, not always; neither was Bucky. They were partners, not the brains and the brawn or whatever stupid shit the history books say. Yeah, Steve started the fights and Bucky finished them, and yeah, Bucky was popular and charming and could've been friends with anybody.

The Winter Soldier and the Hulk show Steve how things might have gone. No wonder Dr. Banner doesn't like being around him. And Bucky – is he even aware enough right now to get it?

Doesn't matter.

Steve can only trust himself to know what's right. And whether anybody else agrees… he doesn't give a shit.

The history books have him down as a clean-cut, all-American hero. He slept for 70 years – if he'd been around for all the shit that came after the war's end, would they still say that?

"Are you prepared for what you might find?" Natasha and Fury and Stark and even Sam ask.

He wants to laugh. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to keep Bucky safe and free.

The thing is – the world isn't ready for what that might mean.


	111. in the darkness bind them

Title: in the darkness bind them

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Tolkien

Warnings: AU; character death

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 300

Point of view: third

Note: I got this idea either from tumblr or the kinkmeme, I can't remember for sure. And I guess it's been percolating in the back of my mind for a few days, beucase it decided this evening it had to get written. I purposefully kept it short. There is no way anyone is getting a happy ending here.

* * *

><p>He pulls the mask off, needing to see the man who killed Fury, who killed dozens of civilians to get him and Natasha, and –<p>

And –

"Steve, we need to go!" Natasha shouts, and Sam's swooping down to grab her while the STRIKE team rushes in –

And –

"We have to go back!" He hears Sam, faintly and Natasha's, "We have to regroup."

And –

Bucky is dead on the ground because Steve broke his neck.

"_Fucking hell_," Rumlow whispers. "Rogers, you're better than I gave you credit for, killin' the asset."

_Asset._

Bucky's been alive for seventy years and Steve killed him. He doesn't – he reaches out to touch Bucky's cheek. Close his eyes. He feels – he _doesn't_ feel.

"Get up, Cap," Rumlow orders. One of them nudges him with a gun.

"Wake up," he tells himself. "For fuck's sake, wake up."

"Cap," Rumlow says.

His entire body is trembling. He can't see through the tears. But he doesn't –

_Please let me still be in the ice_, he prays to a God he gave up believing in when Bucky fell.

Bucky fell. Steve didn't reach him in time. Bucky died. Steve killed him.

"Get a cleaning crew for the asset," Rumlow orders, and then, "Rogers, get the fuck up."

Asset. "Who was he?" he asks, rising to his feet.

"He was our best weapon," Rumlow says. Rollins hands off some kind of cuffs as Rumlow continues, "But he'd have been obsolete real soon, so thanks for the disposal, Cap."

Steve punches him in the face as hard as he can, and then he –

No hesitation. No mercy.

Sam lands as the last body falls. "I got her to a hospital. We gotta get out of here."

Steve kneels next to Bucky and picks him up. He doesn't know what else to do.


	112. father's joy

Has been moved to its own series.


	113. give the pride to the lioness

Title: give the pride to the lioness

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Cap2 and spoilers for everything up till that point; just a spot of cussing

Pairings: all the canon background pairings, implied Nastasha/Clint & Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 830<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: The Avengers, Maria Hill, She doesn't know how Coulson dealt with these people. Herding cats doesn't even begin to cover it.

* * *

><p><em>Drinks at the usual place, please, for the love of god,<em> she texts Pepper. _Someone is GOING TO DIE if I spend tonight sober_.

Pepper replies promptly , _I'll have the usual waiting_.

Maria sighs into her hands. Fucking superpowered assholes, and fucking billionaires. And fucking Coulson for running off to be director and leaving her this - this _debacle_ masquerading as Earth's mightiest heroes.

.

She, like everyone else born after WWII, grew up on stories of Captain America and his Howling Commandoes. It wasn't till she was an adult working in covert ops that she began reading between the lines and realized the Captain America and his badass team couldn't have possibly been as squeaky clean as the books made them out to be.

She spent most of her adolescence crushing on Bucky Barnes for his movie star looks and utter devotion to the determined shrimp that became Captain America. She grew out of it, of course, and all of the Commandoes and their Captain was just another part of history.

Steve Rogers, though. Wow. History doesn't seem to remember how angry he is, and how adorable, and the way he can hold a straight face through _anything._

.

Maria didn't meet Natasha Romanoff until about a month after Barton brought her in. Coulson put in a good word, which was the only reason Romanoff didn't disappear to never be seen again.

Based on the rumors and supposition, Romanoff was supposed to be the most dangerous woman in the world, even though she looked maybe 20 in the right light. That first meeting, though, convinced Maria that the rumors didn't give her enough credit.

And Barton – Barton is a goddamned tragedy, but damned if he doesn't make impossible shots every time. (That's why, after the Battle of Manhattan, she tells him to go to ground and wait to be called in. He saved her life. He saved hundreds of lives because he could've made that attack on the Helicarrier go so much smoother. And if no one else wanted to see it, she knew it, and Fury knew it, and she wasn't going to let him be scapegoated for any of that clusterfuck at all.)

.

Stark. Fucking Stark. The only reason she puts up with him because Pepper says he's a good man at heart, even though he does his best to never ever show it.

But – he did fly a nuke through a portal, and he did take in every single SHIELD agent that needed sanctuary. So.

He's got a goddamned heart. He's still an insufferable jackass.

.

Bruce Banner, though. Dr. Banner she likes. He's a soothing presence. He's possibly the most dangerous person on the whole planet, but he tries so hard to not be threatening. And he's got the best deadpan she's ever seen.

.

Hooboy, Thor. Thor is… there are no words for Thor. At least Dr. Foster and Lewis have taught him to respect electronics because Stark's rants about lightning got real old, real fast.

(And there's no way he's as stupid as he acts, but it is goddamned hilarious.)

.

On the whole, Maria thought she had everything in hand until a ghost followed Steve Rogers home. Yeah, Steve had been busy blowing up shit right and left and center, with _another_ adrenaline junky following him, and Romanoff was riding herd on Barton (who had taken Maria's order to hide far too well, and didn't even call it in when he got shot in the goddamned gut, fucking Barton, _you goddamned tragedy_), and Fury was off the grid, and Coulson was trying to build SHIELD back up despite _his own hero_ burning it down, but she had it all under control, she really did.

_But Bucky fucking Barnes_. What the ever loving fuck.

.

"It'll be alright, Maria, I promise," Pepper says soothingly, gesturing for refills. "You and I, we'll make sure of it."

"He just… he looks so sad," Maria says into the absolutely gorgeous tablecloth. "And so young! Shit, Pepper, they're both so fucking _young, what_ is _wrong_ with this world."

She's barely older than them, if you don't count the years Steve spent frozen and – and _whatever the fuck_ Hydra did to Barnes, but it's just…

"Steve's always lookin' at him," she says, "and he's always lookin' back, and it's just so sad, Pepper, it's so fucking sad, fuck, Hydra died too easy, I swear to God. And Pierce!" She slams the drink back and holds the glass out. "Pierce, that absolute bastard, he, he –"

She really thought she knew the worst of humanity, but Bucky Barnes' _entire existence_ has proved her wrong.

"I know," Pepper says. "But they've got us looking out for them now, don't they?" She nudges the refill over.

"As soon it's all situated," Maria says, looking around and leaning in, "Romanoff's finding me a few of the Hydra bastards that are left. Wanna come?"

A lick of flame flares up in Pepper's eyes and she smiles. "Darling, I'd love to."


	114. he knew who you were

Title: he knew who you were

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Linton Hopkins

Warnings: way post-Cap2; talk of violence/brainwashing; a mishmash of various backgrounds, but mainly movieverse

Pairings: Bucky/Clint/Natasha

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 520

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint + Bucky or Natasha, I feel like a monster

* * *

><p>Bucky and Natasha have spent years trying to atone for what they consider their crimes. Clint thinks it's bullshit, but he'll never tell them that.<p>

See, the thing of it is, the Winter Soldier was a gun and the gun is never at fault for what the hand aiming it does. And Clint will put an arrow in the eye of anyone trying to blame Bucky, and he has.

And Natasha - she didn't know right from wrong 'til way after she left the Red Room, and she wasn't much more than a gun, then, either. Lots of people think ignorance of the law is no excuse, but that's utter horseshit, and he'll fight anyone who tries to hold her accountable, and he has.

Clint's on the far side of 50 now. He's getting to be an old man. Natasha's barely aged half a decade since they met, and Bucky not at all. They're both older than him by a lot but he'll die long before they start showing it. And he'll probably die badly, too. He's been expecting that since Barney left him dying on the ground.

Bucky and Natasha think there's a monster inside them, a monster who had control for years. And they have to make up for what the monster did, the people dead by their hands, the red still dripping down their ledger.

Sometimes, Bucky still shies away from Clint's hands. Sometimes, Natasha turns her face away when he goes in to kiss her. They don't think they're good enough. They think they should be hurt.

For as old as they are, they're still so young. Clint's going to die before they figure out what he learned, laid up in a hospital bed, barely alive.

Surviving is not a crime. Escaping is not a crime. Choosing to live is not a crime.

Neither of them are monsters. Neither of them owes the world anything.

_It makes me want to slaughter something_, Steve confessed to him once, while Natasha and Bucky were curled up together, both looking so damned young and scared.

_Take care of them for me, Cap_, Clint had requested that night.

Steve Rogers thinks it's bullshit and horseshit and every other kind of shit, and he'll be around long after Clint's bones have turned to dust. He's loved Bucky for the better part of a hundred years, even if some of it was lost in the ice, and he thinks Natasha is amazing. They'll be in good hands after he's gone.

Bucky and Natasha aren't the monsters. Clint's known that from the moment he brought Natasha in rather than killing her from a mile away, from the moment he looked at Bucky trying to hide behind Steve. They're just kids who never got a chance.

But Clint… he spent ten years being a damned good assassin, knowing full well the whole time what he was doing. And he hasn't once thought about atoning.

But he doesn't try to explain because they'll refuse to understand. All he can do is love them and protect them and hope they'll let Steve in after he's gone.


	115. safety is no substitute for freedom

Title: safety is no substitute for freedom and honor leaves you longing for love

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Grace Bauer

Warnings: violence/death/roaring rampage of revenge

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 1310<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: _[Any] Steve Rogers is a scary bastard_

_Usually, Steve is the sweetest, gentlest guy around. He's respectful, humble, and still a little bit shy._

_But Steve has a temper, and a few nuclear berserk buttons._

_I want to see what happens when some idiotic bad guy manages to press one._

_(Bonus!points if it has to do with Bucky.)_

* * *

><p>The thing about Steve Rogers' anger is that it's quiet. His true rage is a cold, vicious thing that leaves everyone unaware until it erupts.<p>

He's really good at playing the game, at holding onto his control - when he was the little guy, it was easy to explode because a lot of things pissed him off, yeah, but none of it actually touched him where it truly hurt.

In Brooklyn, no one really went after Bucky. No one attacked Ma or Bucky's sisters. Everyone Steve loved was safe. With that being the case, everything else was gravy.

.

But that's not the case anymore.

.

Captain America can't have the little guy's triggers. The little guy's rages. Captain America is too strong to lose it. Too dangerous.

And then Bucky gets lost behind enemy lines.

.

They spin it, of course. The way history remembers it is wrong but by the time Steve wakes up, it doesn't matter.

What Steve did after Bucky fell isn't even a whisper.

Captain America is the idealized hero, all about Truth, Justice, and the American Dream. Steve doesn't even recognize the revered man he's been turned into.

.

He wants to ask Peggy, _How could you let them tell it that way?_ but he knows it doesn't actually matter. What's done is done.

.

There are aliens and missions and drowning slowly while no one in the world notices. There's Natasha trying to set him up with women and Stark sending him bizarre texts in references he doesn't understand and catching up on pop culture that keeps having him turn to the left and begin, "Hey, Buck," and then he goes to the gym and destroys machinery that Stark (thankfully) keeps replacing.

.

And then there's Fury getting shot through the wall.

There's a mask falling off of Fury's killer's face.

And the world restarts.

.

"Bucky?"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

.

The thing about Steve Rogers' rage is that it's quiet. Cold. Focused.

After Project Insight, he reads the folder Natasha gives him, memorizing the whole thing. He trawls his way through the data she released and has Stark look through what _wasn't_ released.

This is all his fault. He let Bucky fall. He trusted Hydra's extermination to other people. That's a mistake he will not be making again.

He hasn't destroyed gym equipment since the week before the Triskelion fell.

.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asks as they fly over the Atlantic in Stark's jet.

"I'm tearing Hydra out by the roots and lighting it all on fire, then I'm salting the earth," Steve says.

"Okay." Sam shrugs.

.

Fifteen targets in, Bucky appears at Steve's side mid-battle. When they're the last two standing (Sam up in the air, keeping watch), Bucky turns to face him. "You're a fuckin' idiot," he says.

Steve grins, bright and wide, like he hasn't since Bucky fell.

.

With Stark and Natasha's guidance, Hydra is torn out by the roots, lit on fire, and then salted so that nothing else can grow.

.

Someone must be held accountable. That's what the world's governments decree. Someone must be held accountable and all of those culpable are dead, throats slit and bullets in their eyes.

Someone must be held accountable – and that madman with the metal arm is still alive, sitting pretty in Stark's tower, free as a bird.

.

The thing about Steve Rogers' rage is that it's quiet. Cold. Implacable.

"Listen to me," he tells the new World Security Council, the leaders of nations, the public all watching in shock. "Listen carefully." He smiles at the camera. "Bucky Barnes isn't going to be blamed for anything. If you wanna string someone up, it'll be me. But I'm livin' in Stark's tower and my downstairs neighbor is the Hulk. Three floors up there's the world's greatest marksman and the Black Widow. And there's Stark himself, of course."

The smile drops. "But if anyone comes for Bucky…" He shakes his head. "Hydra's gone. If it comes back, I'll kill it again. I'd prefer to stop fightin' now." He sighs. "But I'll always fight for Bucky."

The video ends.

.

"Why did that terrify me more than facing off against an alien god-prince?" Stark asks into the silence.

Bucky says, "You should just let 'em have me."

Steve turns to him. Bucky's hair is still long, hanging into his face. He's hunched in on himself. Sometimes, he's that boy Steve remembers, or that weary man from the war. Sometimes he's the world's most dangerous assassin. Sometimes he's a scared child.

Always, he's Bucky.

So Steve says, "You need to understand what I will do if I lose you again." He reaches out carefully and takes Bucky's hand. "I've done my part to save the world three times now, Bucky, and that whole while, the world was busy hurtin' you. So if anyone hurts you ever again, then I'll rip 'em to shreds."

Bucky just looks at their joined hands and then up at Steve. "Thought that was my line, punk."

Steve laughs and pretends not to notice everyone shuddering, just a little.

.

When he was the little guy, Steve got in a lot of fights. He did what he could and then Bucky swooped in, all avenging angel-like.

Captain America can't afford to get in fights like that. He saves his fisticuffs for the big bads, for the criminal masterminds, the supervillains, wanna-be overlords and world-enders.

The little guy's temper burned hot because he never had anything to really get angry about.

It's been a year since he and Bucky moved into Stark's tower, three months since Bucky started going out with him when the Avengers need back-up, and the first time –

Bucky's writhing on the ground, both hands pressed against his head, unable to even scream, and Steve has no idea which of the five shitheads is causing it.

So he kills them all. And when Bucky is still whimpering on the ground, he goes after their equipment. Natasha and Sam are crouched beside Bucky, trying to help him, and it's not doing anything. Steve can barely think –

He stops moving. Holds his breath. Listens as hard as he can, and _there _–

There's one more shithead. Hiding. Trying to be still and quiet.

Bucky's breath is coming out in whimpers, tiny little grunts of pain, and Steve's rage is incandescent.

"Cap!" Stark calls on the com as Steve stalks over to the shithead's hiding place.

.

After it's done, none of them ever mention it again.

.

Bucky doesn't get any real sleep for almost three weeks.

"What do you need? Steve asks as Bucky shudders himself awake again.

"I just… is it ever gonna end?" Bucky's voice is smaller than it ever was, in the before. He's trying to melt into Steve, and Steve – there's no one left to kill for him. No one left to hurt for this. All the guilty ones are long dead, and hopefully suffering eternal torment.

"We can stop," Steve says. "We can get out. Go live somewhere." He rests his chin on the top of Bucky's head. "We can live quiet, Buck," he offers, tears of helpless welling in his eyes. "We can live free."

"You really think they'd let us go?" Bucky asks, scoffing.

_The judging eyes, the ones calling for my blood, the people who want me drawn and quartered for being a gun_, he means.

"I think if they don't," Steve says quietly, "they'll regret it for a very short time."

.

Steve Rogers has fought his entire life. He fought for women being hounded, for underdogs in unfair situations, for those who suffered under prejudice and injustice.

He vanishes from the public eye one warm spring day. History remembers him as Captain America, the hero who saved the world multiple times. He is idealized. He is the shining idol that real men strive to emulate.

There is a lot history doesn't remember.


	116. Even the gods were terrified

Title: Even the gods were terrified at the flood

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh

Warnings: Talk of torture/brainwashing/dehumanization

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 435

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, when you are worthless they will not expect you to rise.

* * *

><p>They speak in front of it. Mutter information to each other, talk about television programs, movies they want to see, what they had for dinner last night, the best place for breakfast. Gripes about their families.<p>

(Families. _He_ had one once.)

Complain about their superiors. Rant about budget cuts. Small, pointless conversations.

It doesn't listen. None of the information is important to the mission or upkeep.

(_He_ remembers it all.)

.

It speaks when spoken to, when conveying the necessary data to keep it functional. It delivers mission reports. It asks for clarification when the briefing leaves out something necessary for the mission.

They speak around it, not to it. Only the handler speaks to it.

It is a weapon – but it is not mindless. When needed, it can react, change, follow new data to obtain the optimal outcome.

It does not know – but that makes it all the more terrifying.

(_He_ is still there. And he is watching.)

.

"Who was he?" one of the new technicians asks while they work on its arm, restoring function before putting it into storage.

The lead tech shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

.

For over half a century, they speak in front of it. It is wiped and put away and written over hundreds of times. It is their greatest weapon.

(_He_ is there. He remembers.)

For over half a century, they fear it and hate it and rave about what great work they have done. They study it. They learn, and then they use that data to extrapolate what Captain America might be capable of.

It does not know that. It does as ordered. It submits. It sleeps.

(_He_ knows everything. And he is very angry.)

.

Over half a century is nearly undone by one word.

Over half a century is completely undone by ten words.

.

_He_ wakes up to the weapon panting in fear and he says, _Let me_.

The weapon is not mindless. It does not know what to do, but it lets the other have control because it must assess this new data.

He has been there the whole time, the weapon realizes. Unable to move or speak, but there, nonetheless, gathering intel.

And so when they are safely away, the weapon asks, _What is the new mission?_

And Bucky Barnes says, _We're burning Hydra to the fuckin' ground._

_._

A decade was needed to break Bucky Barnes. Five years to ensure the programming took. And for over a half a century, his body was used as a weapon.

He broke. He did not die.

.

The weapon says, _Mission accepted._

Bucky Barnes says, _Then let's get fuckin' started._


	117. scalpel-sharp

Title: scalpel-sharp

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AU; timetravel; fixing the past to save the future

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 130

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any. tools of chaos

* * *

><p>There are certain beings situated on precipices of change: what they do or do not do - where they go, who they meet – even the words they speak, sometimes.<p>

Hindsight, of course, reveals all to those who have eyes with which to see.

At the end of Ragnarök, Loki has those eyes. He gazes back, seeking out those who could have changed the outcome, and settles on one moment in all the realms of time.

He crouches beside a very young Midgardian and says, "There is a child that needs your help three streets over," watching as the boy runs off to where another, sickly, boy is defending a dying dog against three teenaged toughs, and he sees how this meeting will reverberate through all the remaining eons.


	118. better to avenge dear ones

Title: better to avenge dear ones

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Beowulf

Warnings: talk of violence/torture/death/brainwashing

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 575

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Bucky/Steve, just because he's Bucky Barnes again doesn't mean he regrets what he's done.

* * *

><p>There are things he never says, here in this shiny future. He talks about how awesome the food is, how much he's grateful for this third chance at life, how he regrets everything his body was used to do. He's very careful with his words; words have power. Words cause pain. Words are important.<p>

He doesn't know if anyone hears what he doesn't say, but it's a _lot_.

.

_My body_, he says. He never says, _Me_.

.

In the war, he did a lot of shit. For Steve, he's done a lot of shit. Doing the right thing doesn't mean doing the easy thing, and it doesn't mean doing the clean thing. And the right thing for _you_ isn't everybody's right thing.

Let's make that clear right now.

.

In Brooklyn, Steve got into a lot of trouble. Bucky got him out of it. Some of it, Steve never knew about.

People die every day. Sometimes, they have help.

Did Bucky cry about it at night? Nope. Bucky's right thing is to keep his loved ones safe. Steve, the girls, their parents – and he'll never be sorry for that.

.

In the army, they taught him many things. Being in Hydra's custody taught him more. And then he was watching Steve's back again, keeping his men safe, and killing a lot of people before they killed him or his.

And then he was back in Hydra's custody.

Hydra used his body to cause a lot of damage to the world. He had no part in it.

.

There are things he never says. He's not sure how to explain, or even that he wants to. This is his third chance at life. At keeping Steve safe.

His parents and Steve's ma are long dead. The girls are gone and Bucky doesn't know their children or grandchildren.

Bucky Barnes did what was necessary to protect the ones he loved. In this shiny new future, he only loves Steve. And he's got all of the asset's skills to protect him with.

Steve, he knows, doesn't see much difference between now and their relationship in Brooklyn. He spent 25 years pulling Steve out of fights; the fights are bigger, now, but Bucky's still pulling him out.

.

Sometimes, Romanova looks at him, something quiet and still in her eyes. Stark watches him warily; Barton challenges him to sniper battles. Banner keeps his distance, and he is fine with that. He knows what the Hulk is capable of. Thor's barely around.

It hurts Steve, a bit, but Steve's always been a little jealous, so he doesn't mind much, keeping to themselves except when needed for Avenging.

.

They talk about the past. They talk about the future. They talk about the here and now.

There are things he never says. Things he'll always do. He doesn't know if Steve is actually that oblivious or willfully blind, and he's content not knowing.

.

("Bucky," Steve says quietly, one of those big hands gentle on Bucky's real shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he demands, instantly awake.

"We need to go," Steve says. "C'mon."

Bucky follows silently until they're away, and then, tucked into a small apartment he's never been to before, he asks, "What's wrong, Steve?"

Steve says, "The governments of the world want you to hang for what Hydra did. I'm not gonna let them."

Bucky – Bucky says, "So it's just us against the world?"

Steve nods, a small, sad smile on his face. "Like it's always been.")


	119. He is dust and I too shall die

Title: He is dust and I too shall die

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh

Warnings: character death, violence, torture

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 830

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, Black Mulberry Tree (I shall not survive you)

* * *

><p>"Steve, we should slow down," Sam says. "What good do we do Barnes if we die from exhaustion or get caught 'cause we're too tired to notice the trap?"<p>

"And what happens if he dies because no one's watchin' his back?" Steve demands in turn.

.

And then, of _course,_ they find Barnes' body. He lost too much blood, as best Sam can determine. Lost too much too fast to replace, and his serum wasn't as good as Steve's.

He's surrounded by bodies, and he looks so fucking young.

"Bucky," Steve says. "Bucky, wake up." He kneels down in the pool of dried blood; it's been at least three days. "C'mon, Buck." Steve reaches out to shake him. "Bucky, wake up."

_Oh, fuck_, Sam thinks, watching Steve's mind and heart break at the exact same moment.

.

Steve Rogers has gone on multiple suicide missions for Bucky Barnes and (somehow) survived every one of them.

Steve Rogers has been told Bucky Barnes died multiple times and proven it wrong.

There is no world Steve Rogers wants to live in if Bucky Barnes isn't there, too.

.

Hydra is the reason Bucky Barnes died three times.

Steve buries Bucky beneath a full moon and tells Sam, "You should go home."

"I ain't leavin' you out here alone, Steve," Sam says, shaking his head. "Not a chance in hell."

"It is hell," Steve says, patting the newly-turned earth.

.

There is no world without Bucky Barnes. Steve followed orders once and it let Hydra get their hands on Bucky for the second time. It let them murder him and put an obedient weapon into his body.

When Natasha and Fury and Stark and anyone at all calls, Steve doesn't pick up. Sam does, and he has muttered conversation Steve hears but ignores.

This isn't a suicide mission. Steve doesn't plan on dying anytime soon. Not while any piece of Hydra is still somewhere in the world.

.

"Steve," Sam says cautiously. "Steve, look at me."

He doesn't recognize Steve anymore. Steve's crusade – civilians have gotten caught up in, non-combatants, people who haven't been Hydra in fifty years have been executed in their beds.

"Steve, I can't be a part of this any longer." Fury's told Sam to bring Steve in, that he needs to be controlled, contained. They've made the news in every country in the world because Steve has rooted Hydra out _everywhere._

Sam won't bring him in because he understands but he can't –

"Steve, I'm going home," he says. It's been a year since Steve buried Barnes. Sam had hoped… but his friend died with Barnes and he sees that now.

"Be happy, Sam," Steve says, glancing at him for just a moment before looking back down at the bloodstained file eighteen civilians died for Steve to get.

.

The new World Security Council tries to send the Avengers after the rogue Captain America. All of them refuse.

.

It starts with Hydra. But Hydra's got tendrils everywhere. He follows the threads, severing and burning, and letting the bodies lay where they fall.

The war will never be over. And he knows he'll never see Bucky again because Bucky has to be in Heaven. He was too good not to make it there. And Steve's sins are immeasurable now, rivers of blood flowing from his hands that he doesn't feel an ounce of regret for –

They've been dead since Bucky bled out alone. He just needed time to find them.

Steve swings the shield onto his back, holsters his gun, and kneels down next to one of AIM's scientists. "Hi," he says. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Please don't kill me," she cries. She's the only other person alive in the room.

"I'm going to kill you," he says. "But it's up to you how painless it is."

.

There is no world worth living in if Bucky's not there. And all Steve can do is kill anyone who might've ever caused Bucky harm.

He knows there's no end to this. It's his punishment for letting Bucky fall alone.

.

Bucky Barnes' name is on eighteen different memorials. The Winter Soldier is never identified, though it is noted that he did not survive the battle to stop Project Insight's completion.

In every country in the world, the public is informed that Steve Rogers is a fugitive and that if he is seen, do not approach. Contact the authorities.

"This is a goddamned shitshow," Nick mutters, head in his hands. "Fuck."

Things would've been better if Barnes had just died in the mountains. They could've dealt with a depressed and grieving Captain America – they _had_ been dealing with it. But a fucking omnicidal Captain America who believes everyone should be punished for Barnes' death… fuck, no one saw that coming.

"Do we know where he is now?" he asks Coulson.

"No," Coulson sighs. "He was last sighted in Mumbai; corroboration came when a factory caught fire. Thirteen casualties."

"Shit," Nick mutters. Why couldn't Barnes have just died in the mountains?


	120. love is where yesterday is

Title: love is where yesterday is

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: violence/death/everything implied by the existence of an ex-Winter Soldier

Pairings: implied past-Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1215

Point of view: third

Prompt: _It doesn't take Steve and Sam all that long to find Bucky. Mostly, because when they do find him, he's catatonic. Breathing and occasionally blinking, but nothing else. (Why, when, and where up to author.)_

_Steve...well, Steve doesn't handle this so well._

_Bucky may not be able to be angry about what he's suffered at Hydra's hands, but Steve figures he's got enough anger for the both of them. So, he leaves Bucky in Bruce and Sam's capable hands and heads out._

_This time, he takes no prisoners._

_And after each mission, Steve makes sure to come back and resume his vigil at Bucky's bedside, and describes in great detail how many agents were still in the building when he collapsed it, who he killed personally because he saw their name in the Winter Soldier file, how many fewer people there are in the world who can ever hurt Bucky again._

* * *

><p>SHIELD was never not Hydra. The SSR might've had a chance, but SHIELD is not salvageable. And Steve doesn't plan on even trying.<p>

.

The first location he hits, he intends to take prisoners, to get intel to help Bucky (who still hasn't said a word since they found him, sitting cross-legged on the mall outside the Smithsonian). But it's a recalibration site. They have a chair.

There was this one time, in the war, when Steve got hit with some new weapon while they attacked one of Hydra's factories. It burned, and it was cold, and then he went down and didn't wake up for 12 hours – he knows because Bucky counted. Bucky told him.

And Bucky said, "Hopefully those plans were just at that site, 'cause no one got outta there alive, Stevie."

_No one got outta there alive, Stevie._

He'd intended to take prisoners. It doesn't work out that way.

And when he gets back to New York, to Bucky curled up in the smallest space he can find, he kneels down and he blinks back tears, and he says, "No one got outta there alive, Buck."

Bucky doesn't react.

.

"Cap, we could use your help," Fury says.

"Please, come in," Coulson requests.

"Hey, your boy smiled today," Sam reports.

Steve speeds up the takedown and goes home to New York.

.

He doesn't know if Bucky is listening. Doesn't know if Bucky's alive in there to hear. But Bucky spent 23 years taking care of Steve, Bucky _died_ for Steve, and then while Steve slept, Bucky –

Steve had promised, hadn't he, that he wasn't stopping until all of Hydra was dead or captured. But he did stop. He stopped, and Hydra was captured, and he looks at Bucky, staring down at the floor, hair long and messy, skin pale and eyes sad –

This time, he's not stopping and there's no capturing.

.

"Captain Rogers," Coulson says, "we _need_ information."

"Cap," Barton says, "me and Nat found somewhere you oughta check out."

"Steve," Sam says, "your boy glared at the banana and grabbed an apple instead."

.

It's never going to get much better. Bruce and Sam have done their best, and as far as they can tell, Bucky _is_ in there. But he's hiding. He doesn't trust anyone or anything. He's terrified.

He's been terrified for 70 years and that's Steve's fault.

So until Hydra is dead, until he sees it with his own two eyes, he's going back out there and he's scorching the earth, and then he comes home to Bucky, and he settles down by wherever Bucky's hiding now, and he tells him, "No one got outta there alive, Buck."

.

"You should know," Steve says when Coulson tracks him down to Stark's lab, where Stark's making modifications to the suit, "Director, that if I get even the slightest _hint_ your SHIELD is infected –" He looks Coulson right in the eye and he smiles.

"Captain," Coulson says, "I assure you –" Steve tilts his head. Coulson closes his mouth. Stark huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

"Captain," Coulson starts again, "I understand your rage. But we need information we cannot get when you keep executing everyone who might know something."

Steve turns back to Stark.

"And," Coulson continues, "if we could debrief Sergeant Barnes –"

Steve has him against the wall, feet dangling off the floor, before he even realizes he's moved. "Do not," he orders, "go anywhere near Bucky. You or anyone you send. I've told you, and Fury, and your doctors and your scientists."

Coulson's doing his best to maintain that stoic face, but Steve can see the fear in his eyes, feel how much he's trembling. "Listen to me," Steve says softly. "Director, are you listening?"

"Yes, Captain," Coulson says.

Steve lets him drop, but leans in close to say, "You need to understand. There are no words, in any language, that explain how much more Bucky Barnes means to me than you or your organization or your ideals _ever_ will."

Coulson nods. "Mr. Stark. Captain. I'll see myself out."

Stark says, "Best not take any detours, Agent. I'm thinking Cap won't like it." His smirk is just a little cold – since they learned of Coulson's survival, he hasn't treated Coulson the same. Stark doesn't like being lied to.

"Look, Cap," Stark says when they're alone but for the robots, "I swear – you keep your boy here, and no one can get him."

Hydra killed Stark's parents and they used their asset to do it. Stark knows that. It's in the file that he and Natasha cobbled together, that Bruce and Sam damn neared memorized, all in an effort to help Bucky.

There's not much of the asset left. He hasn't been violent. Hasn't disobeyed a single sentence, whether phrased as a question or a statement. He's just… there, somewhere inside his head, and Steve hopes that one day he feels safe enough to come out.

"Thank you," Steve says. "I… I need to go to the gym."

"Destroy whatever you like," Stark says, turning back to the specs for the suit. "I'll just keep on replacing it, Cap." Steve isn't supposed to hear the muttered, "Least I can do," so he ignores it and keeps walking.

.

After Steve leaves the gym down another three punching bags and has a long, scalding shower, he goes to Bucky's room. Natasha's there, reading aloud; Steve leans against the wall just outside the door and listens – she's reading _The Velveteen Rabbit_. A long time ago, Bucky and Bucky's ma read it to the girls.

He waits until Natasha's finished, hoping neither of them can hear the sobs he tries so hard to stifle, and when Natasha comes out, she pats his shoulder. "He's alive, Steve. Remember that."

Steve nods, wiping his eyes, and when he goes in, Bucky meets his gaze before looking back down at the book, tracing the illustration on the cover with his right hand. He doesn't often use the left, even though, back before, he used both equally.

"Hey, Bucky," Steve says.

Bucky looks at him again and holds out the book.

"Okay," Steve says. He's not sure if he can take the place Natasha left on the bed; he's so much bigger than her. Doesn't want to crowd Bucky. But Bucky – scoots over a little.

So Steve, as carefully as he knows how, settles beside Bucky, arranges the book so they both can see it, and starts to read.

.

When he dreams, he always sees the Bucky that was before the war. The Bucky that once told Rebecca, "You gotta be gentle," when she tried to pick up their neighbor's kitten. The Bucky that taught Olivia to throw a punch and that she was never too good to kick a guy in the nuts. The Bucky that cuddled with Julia after her first sweetheart broke her heart and promised there were better guys out there if she wanted one.

The Bucky that shook his head at Steve and wanted to invent things that let them go to the stars and always finished the fights that Steve started.

.

He tells Bucky, "No one got outta there alive, Buck," and he waits every time to hear Bucky say, "Rogers, you numbskull, when you gonna stop fighting?"

He'll keep waiting.


	121. I solemnly swear

Title: I solemnly swear

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: future!fic AUish

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 610<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Tony + Loki, To the Avengers chagrin, a de-powered Loki is a dangerously creative Loki.

* * *

><p>See, the thing about Loki is that he's more than magic. He's also a thousand years of cleverness and trickster and cunning, and honestly, it was <em>easier<em> to beat him when he had the magic.

(Which... something's not right there. He makes a note with Jarvis to come back to that thought later.)

Loki with magic meant there was some riddle to be solved and then everything would go back to normal. (And usually, there weren't all that many causalities and a quick look into their background showed why, exactly, they'd been targeted - something to do with children, mostly. And Thor didn't want to talk about it.)

But now, with Loki's magic gone for the next six months (a favor, Thor had said, owed by the high elf-mage of Elfland) – at first, they were expecting to find him somewhere raging impotently, catch him, and throw him in a cage till his magic came back and he escaped. Without his usual glamour to his face, he'd be easy to find.

Nope. Jarvis scoured every camera in the world and Loki didn't show up even once. Thor assured them that Loki was still on the planet, that he hadn't jumped ship before the geas fell, but they couldn't find him for two and a half months, and then when they did…

"Welcome, brother," he'd smiled, sitting amidst a group of children, a stack of books beside him. "Would you care to join us? Today, it is the _Bhagavad Gita_."

Tony turned to look at Steve. "Your call, Cap," he said, because if they tried dragging him out, it was very likely kids would get hurt.

"What is this game of yours, Loki?" Thor had demanded, hefting his hammer as he stepped forward.

A little girl bounced up and over to him. "We learned about you yesterday!" she said, hands on her hips and glaring up at him. "You leave Mr. Loki alone, you big bully!" She couldn't have possibly been speaking English, but Thor's allspeech took care of it for them.

Loki said something in Hindi, presumably to the girl, and with one more glare, the little girl returned to her spot.

Thor looked completely gobsmacked. Tony bit down on a hysterical laugh. Clint's lips were pressed firmly together and Natasha was intent, and Bruce, wisely, was back on the jet and a single word away.

"Brother," Loki said, "I am quite busy. Make an appointment, yes?" He nodded to the closest door. "My personal assistant is in the office. It was good to see you."

While they stood there gaping at him, Loki resumed reading in Hindi. The kids seemed to understand just fine, and Tony had Jarvis translate for him – his allspeech was apparently gone with his magic.

He glanced up, though, with a smirk for Thor, and then his eyes slid to Tony.

Even now, two weeks of arguing with the team later, Tony has no idea what Loki's game is. A village in the remote Himalayas worshipped him as a god – even though his magic was gone. Are they meant to be the beginnings of his army? A cult? Something else entirely?

As far as Tony can tell, so far, Loki has done nothing wrong while human. He's got himself set up as a god and he's teaching children ancient mythology, and he's also got the team shouting at each other about what he could be doing. No surprise there.

(And, as Tony learns later, they've forgotten one very important detail.

The elf-mage who laid the geas had no idea that Loki was adopted, much less wasn't Asgardian, and that his magic wasn't Asgardian, either.)


	122. love too, will remind us

Title: love too, will remind us

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Richard Siken

Warnings: AU during Cap2; character death

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 450

Point of view: second

Note: Perhaps owes a bit to Richard Siken. I have no idea where this came from. I am so sorry.

* * *

><p>You're hanging from a train.<p>

You know how this story ends.

.

They say your name is –

They say you were a good man.

They say what happened wasn't your fault.

They say it will get better, they promise and swear, and they say one day it will all be good again.

They say you are a man. They say you are not just an asset, not just a weapon. You are a man.

Once, they say, you were a good man, a hero, the best friend of the best man of all.

You do not ask where that man is, that best man of all. You already know.

.

You're hanging from a train and he's reaching for your hand.

You know how this story ends.

.

They say –

You have decades of intel. You give it all.

You have locations of training and research facilities, factories, safe houses. You remember more than anyone ever suspected and have no one to be loyal to.

You were never loyal. You know that now. You know many things, now, things you have always known.

You know your name.

You know his.

.

You're hanging from a train and he's reaching for your hand and he's screaming your name.

You know –

You know –

You wish –

.

You tell them everything you know and then you do not speak again.

They say you are a good man.

You know that is inaccurate.

.

You're hanging from a train and then you fall.

You fall for seventy years.

You wake to sightless eyes and the best man of all men dead beneath your hands.

You are a weapon. You have succeeded at your mission.

His blood coats your hands and you return to your handlers and you use your bloodstained hands to slaughter them all where they stand and hide and run.

.

You're hanging from a train –

You fall for seventy years with his voice echoing in your ears.

.

They say it wasn't your fault. You know they protect you for your intel. You know they will tire of you, will run out of patience. His blood is on your hands and no amount of intel is worth it.

They say your name is –

But you know you have no name. It was swallowed in the mountain as you fell.

.

You're hanging from a train.

You've hit the ground.

His blood is on your hands and you've given all the intel you know.

They say you are a man. They say your name is –

They say you were his friend. They say you are a good man.

That is inaccurate.

.

You're hanging from a train and he's reaching for your hand and he's screaming your name.

You know how this story ends.


	123. to lie as all who love have lied

Title: to lie as all who love have lied

Disclaimer: the narrator's mine. no one else is. Title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: spoilers through Cap2; talk of PTSD, violence

Pairings: Steve/OFC; implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 1400<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any/any, finding out your lover would protect a monster if he just loved it enough

* * *

><p>Tate's known the whole time that Steve Reynolds is Steve Rogers is Captain America. It was kinda obvious after the whole alien invasion thing, even though she'd been flirting with him the entire week leading up to that. And while no official announcement was released <em>after<em> the invaders were beaten back, Captain America's face was out there.

But Steve Reynolds carries himself differently than Captain America. He goes on business trips a lot and comes back a little tired but not injured as far as Tate can tell.

They're not that serious, her and Steve Reynolds. They can't be since he's never told her he's Steve Rogers, Captain America. Fuck, she had such a crush on him as a girl. But she's a woman now, working her way through grad school for architecture, and they talk about art, a lot, about sketching and various mediums and which greats are just bullshit as opposed to actually deserving the title.

It's fun, what they have.

But the helicarriers just sank into the river, and DC is on fire, and everyone saw Captain America get arrested (Steve Rogers, he was dressed like Steve Rogers, where was his suit, where was his team?) and some guy with a metal arm, and it's all just -

She goes through the information released onto the internet as best she can, but not a lot makes sense. Steve doesn't answer her texts or her increasingly frantic calls.

Finally, she just decides to drive to DC; work's cancelled anyway, and so is school for the week. Everything's chaos. She knows Steve Reynolds' address, and while it might not be where Steve Rogers actually lives, it'll do in a pinch.

Tate knocks on the door, first. There's no answer. She glances back down at the hall, biting her lip. It's ridiculous, what she's thinking – but she's already here. She's come this far. And Monica had taken the time to teach her…

She'll never tell anyone, but Tate Edison picks the lock on the door to Captain America's apartment. She's a little proud of it for about three seconds – and then there's a metal hand clamped around her throat, a metal arm pinning her to the wall, and the most terrifying person she's ever seen glaring at her.

The guy with the metal arm who tore up DC is in Steve's apartment.

"Who are you?" he asks, and his voice is entirely too soft for the pure strength in his body. The hand loosens but the arm remains firm.

She say, "T—Tate. I'm here to make sure Steve's okay. Oh, fuck, please don't kill me."

There is no expression on his face but he unclamps his fingers, lowers his arm. She sags back against the wall. She doesn't go for her phone or move at all, watching him back away, hands at his side. His clothes look like he pulled them out of a dumpster, his hair is utterly disgusting, but he moves so silently it's absolutely mind-numbingly terrifying, and his gaze never leaves her. There's nothing in that gaze, like no one's home in his head, but the way he fought –

She doesn't beg. He'll kill her or he won't.

Tate blinks and he's just gone. Out the window, she assumes, when she can think through the fear and sheer relief that she's alive.

She slides down the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees, and just breathes.

.

She wakes up to a black guy kneeling out of reach, saying, "Ma'am? Ma'am, hey, can you wake up please?"

Tate jerks to the side, eyes going past him to see if the metal-armed guy is back, and she heaves a sigh of relief that he's not.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," the black guy says, holding his hands up. "I am gonna ask why you're in Steve's apartment, though."

"I, I saw the news," she says. "I couldn't make heads or tails of the internet stuff, but I saw that Steve got hurt, and he wasn't answering his phone, and I knew this address, and I broke in, and that, that crazy guy with the metal arm, oh, fuck, I can't believe I'm alive." She stops to breathe.

The guy – and he was on the news, too, guns pointed t him just like they were pointed at Steve – says, "The soldier was here?" and begins looking around.

She nods, trying to breathe slowly and deeply.

"Shit," the guy says. "Okay, if you're willing to trust me, I can take you to Steve. He's been in the hospital, just woke up yesterday. Can you trust me?"

Tate nods again. "I saw you – you were on Steve's side."

"Yeah." He smiles, rising to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up. "I'll always be on Steve's side. He's a good guy."

"The best," Tate says, taking his hand.

.

Sam Wilson brings her to Steve's hospital room. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, who was also all over the news (and still is) pats Steve on the shoulder and then hip-checks Sam as she leaves, with a brief smile for Tate.

"Tate!" Steve says, trying to smile at her. It pulls at the stitches in his cheek and he winces.

"Oh, fuck," she says, looking him over. "Shit."

"I'll give y'all a moment," Sam says. "But, Steve - _he_ was in your apartment."

She shudders at the reminder but Steve – in a few years, she'll understand. By that point, the whole world will understand. But right now, looking at Steve who only survived because of a government experiment when literally every other person would've died, right now, Tate watches Steve's entire body surge, his eyes light up, and there's no anger at all anywhere, no fear, nothing to show the guy with the metal arm is a threat, is probably the person who put him in this bed, three days after he should've died.

It's been a week since the helicarriers. If Steve still looks like _this_ - how bad was it?

"Thanks, Sam," Steve says. Then, "Tate, I'm sorry – I guess you were tryin' to get a hold of me?" He chuckles a little. "My phone got destroyed."

"I broke into your apartment," she confesses, sitting in the chair beside the bed. She reaches for his hand, and he reaches for hers, and she says, "This really scary guy was there." She shudders again, but Steve…

Steve focuses on her face, and practically _begs,_ "Can you tell me?"

So she does, even though she almost has another panic attack. Steve talks her through it, apologizing, and then she says, "I've known the whole time you weren't Steve Reynolds."

He nods. "I figured you did. I just wanted something… outside of all this." He uses his free hand to wave at the hospital room.

Tate takes a deep breath. "I can date Steve Reynolds," she says. "And I can crush on Steve Rogers. But I can't…" She shakes her head.

Steve gently squeezes her hand. "I understand," he says, sounding so warm and kind it brings tears to her eyes. "I'm not gonna be around for awhile, anyway. There's something I've gotta do."

She stands, presses a kiss to his forehead, and says, "You're amazing, Steve. And it's been so much fun."

"We can still be friends," he says. "I don't wanna give up our art talks if I don't have to."

"Okay," she says. "Text me, when you get a new phone."

He chuckles a little and she turns to leave. A part of her waits for him to call her back, but he doesn't.

Sam and the Black Widow are huddled in close in the hall. Sam separates to say, "One of us can give you ride back to your car."

"Thanks," she says, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I don't care which."

.

Steve never gives a single interview about what happened on the helicarriers. He does talk about Hydra, though, and Project Insight. Journalists and government leaders ask about the Winter Soldier, barely a mention in the leaked information. A ghost.

Tate tries to avoid everything about the Winter Soldier because she still sees his eyes, feels his hand around her throat. He didn't kill her. She doesn't know why.

Every time they ask about the Winter Soldier, Steve looks at the camera and he says, "Come home."

It's years before anyone understands why.


	124. Surfactant

Title: Surfactant

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: everything the presence of post-WS Bucky implies including references to past non-con

Pairings: past-Steve/Bucky and future-Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 1235<p>

Point of view: second

Prompt: _Steve/Bucky, Bucky turning tricks for medicine money_

_During a routine Avengers get-together someone starts ihow did I lose my virginity?/i game. Bucky, whose memory is still spotty and largely bereft of context, volunteers it was in the early 1930s, to a guy called Jeremy. Because Sam instilled a therapy policy to let him talk, react to nothing, and ask innocuous follow-up questions, they learn it was January, in a back alley, and he got money for it, which he used to buy medicine._

_Steve reacts poorly, but tries to hold it together._

* * *

><p>It makes Steve smile whenever you join what Banner has explained as "bonding rituals," ways to tie together the various members of the team. You know that your strongest tie is to Steve and always will be, but it causes you no hardship to participate in these rituals outside of the battles fought against the enemy.<p>

And so when Steve says there is a get-together on Barton and Natalia's floor, you follow along. Part of the reason you participate fairly often, though not always, is to see Steve smile, but the bonding rituals also provide intel on how to be a man instead of a weapon.

Present this night are: Natalia, Wilson (visiting from DC), Stark (who you often avoid), Lewis (civilian), Steve, and you. "Drinking games!" Lewis shouts, handing Steve a bottle of alcohol for both of you, though you know Steve has explained before that neither of you is affected. It does not matter: the drinking among companions is the point of the ritual.

You stay close to Steve, filing everything away for review later; you have months worth of data and you reexamine the intel instead of sleeping, most nights. You have made sure that Steve does not know (his frown and crumpled face always cause you pain, though you do not know why, even though hiding data from the handlers is not allowed (_Steve is not a handler_)) while you are sure Natalia knows and Wilson suspects.

Wilson has been given charge of your 'recovery,' which you understand to be your quest in becoming a man again. To that end, you chose to refer to yourself with male pronouns in your first week after the failed mission, when you purposefully rescued the target from drowning and ensured the target's survival. Before you even allowed Steve and Wilson to contain you, you chose _he_ and _him_ and _his_ in place of Soldier, Asset, and It, what your handlers had called you. When you explained that decision to Wilson, after, Wilson had both congratulated and praised you.

"Alright, time for some truth-telling!" Lewis yells. "C'mon, dudes, gather 'round." She tugs and prods until everyone is seated in a circle, though she does not tug or prod you. You settle beside Steve nonetheless.

"First time sex: go!" Lewis orders.

"Ladies first," Stark says with a leer.

"Alright, fine," Lewis groans, smiling and draining her (fourth) bottle before she begins a very drawn out story involving a "homecoming" dance and "the hottest jock in school, oh, fuck, he was so gorgeous."

Stark goes next, and his story involves a far older woman who spent all night long teaching him.

Before she speaks, Natalia's eyes flick towards you; her story is about a first night of freedom and a gentle lover. Something – something echoes inside, but it is Wilson's turn, so you file it away for review later.

Wilson talks about a boy with nice eyes and hurrying before his mom got home, laughing throughout the entire story.

"You're up, Cap!" Stark booms, reaching over to slap Steve's thigh. Steve has spent the entire truth-telling game bright red, but he brightens even further, ducking his head. "C'mon, Cap," Stark says. "You spent months with a team full of hotties!"

"That wasn't –" Steve says. "I mean." He glances at you for a moment, a movement that everyone catches.

_"Oh,"_ Lewis gasps. "Fuck, that's gotta be the hottest thing I've ever imagined."

"Well," Natalia giggles, "Guess we know James' first time, too."

"No, that is not accurate," you say. There is much you do not remember – but your first sexual contact, you do. There had been some kissing with girls but nothing more. There had been kissing with Steve, too, but he was not your first experience with sexual contact. (Not _Bucky's_ first experience. You know that the asset's is not what anyone in this room needs or wants to hear about.)

"What?" Steve asks. "Bucky, what do you mean?"

"Steve," Wilson says.

"Right, right." Steve takes a deep breath. "Bucky, you wanna tell us your story?"

You look at Steve but he just nods. So you say, "Early autumn, 1937. Alleyway. I used my mouth." All the pertinent information relayed, you look at Steve.

"I'm sorry, what?" Lewis asks after a moment of silence.

Lewis is a civilian; there is no need to follow her directives.

"Bucky," Steve says, "why were you in an alleyway?"

Natalia leans over to whisper to Steve, but your hearing is superhuman. "Steve, you probably don't wanna pull this thread."

You answer, "That is where Jeremy wanted me."

Steve's glance at Wilson is panicked; you are not sure why. Stark asks (gently, perhaps, though the softer tones are still hard to comprehend) "How'd you and Jeremy meet?"

That, you do not know. But Stark you always obey, so you say, "I was walking." That is true. But how you got from the bar to flirting with Jeremy, you do not remember.

"What happened after you used your mouth?" Wilson asks. Steve's hands are clenched into fists, and Lewis isn't smiling, and you do not understand. Is this not a game?

But Wilson asked. You always answer Wilson, even if you would prefer to keep your thoughts to yourself. So you say, "He told me he would pay double to fuck me."

Steve's eyes widen and everyone else makes some sort of noise, except for Natalia, who closes her eyes and sighs. Steve presses his lips together firmly and you would like to clarify what, exactly, you have done wrong, but Steve asks, "Why were you charging him, Bucky?"

You smile because that you _do_ know. "You were sick, Stevie," you say. "Your ma had just died and you needed the money."

Steve ducks his head, nodding a little. "Aww, Bucky," he mutters. "Shit."

"I'd say this party's over," Stark announces, climbing to his feet with a groan. "Kids, it's been real."

Lewis says, "I'd better make sure he gets to the elevator alive," and hurries after him.

You turn to look at Wilson, hoping he can explain why your story has ended the game, but he just asks, "Bucky, do you remember… did you do that often? Things with men for money."

"I… do not think so," you answer. It is not a lie. (It's _not._ But there is so much you don't remember.)

"Okay, that's good," he says. It sounds like relief. "We'll discuss it at our next session, alright?"

"Yes, Sam," you say. They like you to use their first names when you speak.

Steve is staring at the ground, hands still clenched into fists.

Natalia stands and pulls Wilson up. "We'll see you tomorrow, James," she says. "Steve."

You do not understand, and you do not know how to ask for clarification without making everything worse. So you just stare at Steve until Steve raises his head to meet your eyes. "Let's go to bed, Bucky," he says.

You nod and follow him to the stairs. He does not like elevators. Because he does not, neither do you. Stairs are easier to maneuver in, and to escape from, should the need arise.

Tonight, instead of sleeping, you go over every scene and word and expression on someone's face from the bonding ritual. Steve lies awake next to you, face angled towards yours, but his eyes are closed. Tears leak from under his eyelids.

You do not understand.


	125. Wipe your hand across your mouth

Title: Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from TS Eliot

Warnings: talk of depression, violence, death, torture, brainwashing

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 390<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any&any (or any/any). Milkvetch _Your presence softens my pains_

* * *

><p>None of them realize the ghost has been haunting Steve until they have the ghost-made-flesh standing beside him. None of them realize that Steve has been drowning silently since the defrost until he takes a deep breath and surges out of the shallows, all because of the metal hand that drags him to shore.<p>

None of them realize who Steve Rogers actually is until they see the way he smiles at Bucky Barnes.

.

Steve Rogers, it turns out, is a little shit. Also, just a bit terrifying.

History left a lot of things out, Clint realizes, and Stark just cackles through the disbelief.

.

Steve Rogers spends two years of his life angry and depressed, wearing Captain America like a mask. No one notices.

Steve Rogers spends three months of his life following a ghost on a world tour of death and destruction, and he hasn't felt so alive since that first beating in an alleyway, when a kid pulled the three bigger boys off him and said, "This don't look like a fair fight."

.

Steve Rogers actually _laughs_ and _smiles_ and _grins._ It's amazing.

"I hadn't realized it was that bad," Tasha confesses to Clint while Barnes teases Cap about something. "I mean, I knew it was _bad,_ but the severity..." She shakes her head. "He's a better liar than I gave him credit for."

.

Steve Rogers spent seventy years asleep and the world moved on without him. A legend built on his name; a myth formed around him.

When he woke, he was shoved right back into a war with nothing but his name and a uniform that signified whatever those in power wanted.

No one realized that he hadn't grieved in those seventy years, or moved on. He slept. He should never have awoken.

.

But he did wake. And somehow, though Steve has no idea what he did for such a precious gift, Bucky's here, too.

Bucky's alive and Steve can breathe again.

.

"Holy fuck, why wasn't this in the history books?" Clint laughs, watching from a safe distance as Cap and Barnes have a goddamned prank war in Stark's tower.

"Would you have believed it?" Banner asks.

"Nope." Clint ducks the water balloon as Banner makes a strategic retreat, and across the room, Cap's doubled over laughing and Barnes is haloed in sunlight, smiling.


	126. If I wrote you, you would know me

Title: If I wrote you, you would know me, you would not write me again

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dar Williams

Warnings: portrayal of a very unhealthy situation with maybe some implied dub-con; references to torture/brainwashing/dehumanization

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 400

Point of view: second

Prompt: any. any/any. telling a lie because the truth hurts more

* * *

><p>Steve asks, "Do you remember...?"<p>

You say, "Yeah, 'course, punk. How could I forget?"

.

The truth is, you read a lot. You read things on the internet, a library's worth of books, and Steve's body language, Steve's face. You read his interactions with the others, who kept their distance from you in the beginning but have begun to treat you like you belong. Like you're Steve's.

(You are Steve's. That'll never be a lie. It never has been.)

Natasha knows, you know. But she doesn't tell.

(You asked, once, why. She'd smiled, sadly, and said, "I know what it's like.")

.

The truth is, you don't remember Before, and you don't remember During. You don't remember being Bucky Barnes (but you answer to that name because Steve smiles) and you don't remember being the Winter Soldier.

You've read the reports. You read between the lines in the historical record. You put it all together, see where you have been. What was done with your hands.

Bucky Barnes was a good man. The Winter Soldier was a very efficient weapon.

You are neither. You are both.

.

Sam tells you, "Don't do this. He should know."

You reply, "I've hurt him too much already."

Sam shakes his head. "How long do you think you can keep this up, man? It'll hurt more when he figures it out."

You shrug. "I can be what he wants."

Sam sighs. "You should be what _you_ want."

You don't know what that is. Who that is. And you can't ever let Steve know that.

.

Bucky Barnes loved Steve Rogers more than life itself. The Winter Soldier had no idea who the man was but saved him anyway.

And you… Steve is kind to you. He protects you. He provides shelter and sustenance and clothing. He sleeps beside you and holds you and never blames you when you lash out in the middle of the night.

You know what he wants, and you are _glad_ that you can provide it for him.

.

So whenever Steve asks, "Do you remember…?" you nod and you smile.

"'course I do," you say, mentally reviewing all the information you have gathered and either extracting the correct data or extrapolating something.

You are happy when Steve smiles. _Happy_.

But… you wish you could be Bucky Barnes. He was a good man. It is him Steve loves.

You'll cling to the lie as long as you can.


	127. darkness ends in everlasting day

Title: darkness ends in everlasting day

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Phillis Wheatley

Warnings: made up summoning ritual; made up supernatural lore; references to violence/torture/brainwashing/rape

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 3630

Point of view: third

Note: yes, that is a reference to a historical figure; yes, that other thing is a reference to Supernatural.

Prompt: _Steve/Bucky, Bucky sold his soul (maybe)_

_Bucky, in a fit of youthful stupidity, sells his soul to what he believes was the devil (this being Bucky, it was probably to save Steve's life). He knows he's living on borrowed time, and he's got no intention of letting Steve know._

_Steve eventually finds out when the not!devil comes collecting (post CAWS, perhaps?)._

* * *

><p><em>1942<em>

He stares down at the letter and then over at the bed, where Steve's tucked under every single blanket they own and still shivering anyway. Two months to the day since Pearl Harbor and Steve's already tried to enlist three times, only the first under his own name.

Of course they'll never take him, no matter his name. And Bucky never risked enlisting because he can't leave – not his ma and the girls, and not Steve.

He doesn't have the choice, now. And with him gone, who is going to pull Steve out of alleys, keep him alive, make sure he's got heat and food?

There's gotta be something he can do to make sure Steve is safe.

He rips up the letter and tells everyone he volunteered.

.

Turns out, he's not just good at back alley fights. He aces training, gets a single visit home to see Ma and the girls and Steve, and then he's off to the Pacific. He spends six months fighting before he gets sent home injured, given time to recuperate while the higher-ups decide where to send him next.

He helps train kids way too young on using guns because he broke every record they had.

Bucky only tells Steve the good stories.

.

_1943_

Bucky doesn't remember much of his ma's ma's ma, but there was a story she told. About how, if someone really needed something, they could pray at a source of running water and _something_ would appear to grant their request – for a price, of course.

He survived the Pacific, but he knows he won't survive in Europe. Maybe it's that touch of foretelling ma's ma used to say ran in their family, maybe he's just being pessimistic… but he can't risk it. He'll be getting his orders in less than a week, and then he's back in the war, gone from Brooklyn and ma and the girls and Steve.

He waits till Steve's asleep, the hottest night of the year so far, and then he walks to the East River. He finds a spot where he can kneel and put his hands in the water, and then he prays. Maybe he should feel guilty, but he – he stopped praying to his parents' and Steve's god in the Philippines.

"To the wish-granter of where the water runs," he whispers, the words Ma's ma's ma had said, "I humbly beseech thee for a boon." It sounded better when she said it in her old country's language, but he never learned enough. Ma hadn't liked it, had said they were New Yorker's now. He repeats the words five times, steadily growing more desperate. He doesn't believe it will work, not really, but he knows he can't walk onto that boat and go die if he hasn't tried.

Then he hears a rushing wind and "Why have you summoned me, child of Elisabeta?"

Dumbfounded, he says, "My ma is Winifred." He pulls his hands out of the water and turns to face – it's only a shadow.

It laughs. Bucky shudders. "Her mother's mother's mother's mother summoned me to ensure her son lived through his first night and every night thereafter."

Bucky swallows nervously. "What was the price?"

The shadow sighs. "She did not live to see him grown tall and strong, and that name could never again be used for her bloodline." It floats forward and Bucky doesn't move. "Tell me, James Buchanan Barnes, what it is you would ask of me."

Right. Bucky nods. "My friend, Steve. I… I'm going away soon and I won't be able to look after him. But he, he's always getting in trouble and he's constantly sick, and he needs to be healthy." Bucky pauses to take a breath. "Please. Whatever the price is, I'll pay it. Just… make him healthy and strong. Please."

The shadow laughs again. "The price for this boon, James Buchanan Barnes, is that you will indeed be lost in war." The shadow comes closer and Bucky trembles as it brushes against his face. "But Steven Grant Rogers will be given strength." Even though the shadow is still touching him, Bucky can't help the sigh of relief. "Do not fear, child of Elisabeta," the shadow murmurs.

With the sound of rushing wind, the shadow is gone and Bucky's kneeling alone, listening to the river.

.

They go to Stark's expo and Bucky leaves with both his and Steve's dates, and he goes back to the apartment just before dawn, where Steve's sitting at the kitchen table.

"You're gonna be fine, Buck," Steve tells him.

"Yeah, Stevie," he lies, "of course I am."

They have time for one last tumble and then Bucky grabs his pack. He looks at Steve for a long moment, mostly asleep in their bed, and he leans down to kiss Steve's forehead, the tip of his nose, his chin. "I love you," he whispers. "You're gonna be healthy, Steve. I was never gonna last, anyway." He shoulders his pack and locks the door behind him.

.

_1944_

Just because he knows he'll be dead soon is no reason for Bucky to stop looking out for his men. When the choice comes down to certain death or surrender, he makes it.

The first time Zola burns him from the inside out, he thinks it was a mistake.

When he sees the shadow's boon, Steve tall and strong, he thinks it was all worth it.

.

The first moment they get alone is three miles from the husk that was the Hydra factory. Bucky demands the rest of the story, beyond _joining the army_ and Steve tells him all about science experiments, good becoming great and bad becoming worse. That red-faced guy was the worse; Steve's the great.

For just a second, all the time it takes Steve to lean down and kiss him, Bucky wonders which he is – but he knows he won't live long enough to know.

.

Steve gets his own team, of course, and everyone he asks agrees to join up. Bucky figures out pretty quick that he's definitely been changed by that little rat doctor because he can actually keep up with Steve, he's faster and he's stronger, and while his eyesight has always been good, he can make shots now that he couldn't before.

But it doesn't matter. The war's gonna get him soon. All he can do is watch Steve's back 'til the time comes.

_._

_1945_

Five days into the New Year and they're going after the little rat doctor. Bucky almost backs out, almost says he can't do it –

But he knows this is it. Maybe it's the foreteller in his blood, or the shadow letting him know. Whatever it is… he takes a deep breath and follows Steve onto the train. He fights Hydra as hard as he can and then he picks up the shield because Steve's down.

His only regret is that he didn't say goodbye.

.

He hadn't expected Hell to be so cold. He can't – there's nothing, just cold and wind and, and – he tries shouting when he first wakes up but –

By the time they find him, he doesn't even care. It's too cold to think.

They take him. No matter what happens, he never struggles, too thankful to be warm again. He keeps expecting flames but there's – there's saws and knives and beatings and they use his mouth and his ass, but there's no lake of fire, no billowing smoke and screams.

He even sees the little rat doctor a few times, so he's glad that at least that bastard got what was coming to him.

.

_year unknown_

They strap him into a chair. He supposes it's a new form of torture.

Lightning streaks into his head and there's –

.

_year unknown_

Sometimes, while in storage, the asset sees a shadow. The shadow calls it the child of Elisabeta, which is inaccurate because the asset has never been anyone's child – but the asset never corrects the shadow. The asset is corrected; it does not correct.

The shadow tells it, "I warned you. But be not afraid, James Buchanan Barnes. Soon, this suffering will end and you will find new meanings of torment." The shadow brushes against the asset's face. "Oh, you poor boy. I know it does not comfort you now, but you should know that Steven Grant Rogers is at peace. He will return to the world soon, healthy and strong and alive."

The asset simply stares at the shadow. The shadow brushes against its face again and whispers, "Sleep, child of Elisabeta."

.

The asset is awakened. Assigned a target, a team. The asset succeeds. Recalibration, fuel, storage.

.

The asset is awakened.

.

The asset is awakened.

.

_2014_

The target –

The target –

_'til the end of the line_

_I'm not gonna fight you_

_James Buchanan Barnes_

The asset walks away, malfunctioning. Does not return to the retrieval location. Vanishes.

_Bucky_

.

The asset dreams of a shadow. "Out of the frying pan, child of Elisabeta," the shadow says, "and into the fire." It laughs, caressing the asset's face. "You were lost to war, as I promised. Your Steve is healthy and strong, as you wished. And now, as I swore to dearest Elisabeta, you have life again."

"Who are you?" the asset asks, and wakes to the shadow's laugh.

.

The asset wanders. If it finds Hydra, it destroys Hydra. It cleans itself as needed, refuels and recharges when necessary, stares at the sky when it desires to do so. It dreams of the shadow every time it sleeps. The shadow, and –

_Oh, Stevie, what am I gonna do with you?_ Kisses. Caresses. Warmth and laughter.

_Buck, Bucky, please, c'mon, I can take it_ and then the other way around. The asset wakes wanting –

It stares at the sky, gasping for air. _Steve,_ it thinks.

And, _Bucky._

_._

_2015_

Bucky Barnes returns in waves. He thinks of himself as Bucky, he shaves his face and cuts his hair, dresses in clothes that fit. He smiles at strangers on the street, holds the door for women and elderly, leaves big tips for the wait staff. He watches the news. He researches Captain America, Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos, Hydra, SHIELD.

If he comes across Hydra, he'll destroy the cell, the agent, the what or whoever it is. But he doesn't seek them out.

The first time he dreams of the shadow after deciding to be Bucky again, he asks, "Why'd you keep me company?"

The shadow laughs. "You are an investment centuries in the making, child of Elisabeta. Of course I would visit now and again."

"What are you?" Bucky asks. "I doubt a demon would've taken the time to comfort me."

He can hear the smile in the shadow's voice. "You wouldn't have heard of me. You should rest, by the way. Your Steve is catching up." The shadow laughs again. "He's definitely my love's favorite."

Bucky wakes and can hear the footsteps downstairs.

.

Steve is… completely healed. Bucky stays seated on the sleeping pallet, watching Steve slowly approach. The shield is on his back, his hands spread to show they're empty. His eyes are wide, face –

"Bucky?" he asks. Bucky can hear the tears he's holding back.

He sighs heavily and nods. "Hey, Steve."

.

It had been – difficult, to realize he had never died. Never gone to Hell. Had given himself to Hydra without a fight. He'd been… very angry.

To see Steve alive and whole and healthy and so amazingly _strong_ makes up for most of it. He figures he has the shadow to thank for the memories of being the asset feeling muted and faded. Oh, he can call up the information and knowledge whenever he needs to, and his body remembers – but it doesn't hurt like it should. It helps him be Bucky.

Steve slept, his research had showed. For all those decades, Steve was safe.

Now that Steve's in sight, Bucky can't keep his eyes off him. Steve's paused just out of reach, fingers digging into his own thighs as he tries not to grab at Bucky, pull him close, never ever let him go again. Bucky knows because he feels the same.

"I'm sorry," Bucky finally says. Steve's brow furrows. "For not being strong enough to hold on," Bucky explains.

Steve's mouth drops open and his expression – Bucky recognizes that one as Steve's righteous rage. "Don't you _ever_ apologize me for anything about your fall and what Hydra did."

"Steve," Bucky says, very slowly and telegraphing every move, rising to his feet. "I didn't fight them." That, if nothing else, he _needs_ Steve to understand. "I thought I was dead." He looks away. "I thought I was in Hell, and I didn't fight."

Steve flinches back and Bucky glances over in time to his entire face crumple. "Oh, Steve, no," Bucky says as Steve just lets himself go down and huddle on the floor. Bucky goes to him instantly, wrapping both arms around Steve and pulling him as close as he can.

He hears more footsteps. Immediately, he relocates Steve, grabs his nearest firearm, and readies himself to defend the mission.

"Steve?" It is Sam Wilson, he determines. "Hey, Steve, buddy, you alive in there?" There is apprehension in Sam Wilson's tone. Fear. Anger.

Sam Wilson is wearing a communication device; he hears Natalia Romanova say, "Falcon, status?"

He feels Steve stirring behind him. "Sam, everything's alright!" Steve shouts, one of his hands resting on –

Bucky shudders, sagging down against Steve. It's been weeks since the last time he blanked.

Wilson peers around the doorway. "Stand down, Widow," he mutters. "Steve, don't you frighten me like that."

"Sorry," Steve calls. "I just…" His forehead is resting on Bucky's back. "I just had a shock, is all."

Wilson shakes his head. "C'mon in, Nat," he says. "Things're calm."

Bucky closes his eyes, turning his face towards Steve. "I won't let them lock me away," he murmurs. If they try, he knows the asset will handle it. He doesn't – he doesn't want to kill Steve's friends, but he won't ever let himself be caged again, no matter who is doing the caging.

"Neither will I," Steve murmurs back. "I swear, Bucky. Me and you against all comers, just like it used to be."

Bucky knows they both hear Wilson's reaction to that, but he focuses on Steve's heartbeat, steady and strong. So strong.

"Okay," Bucky says, opening his eyes.

.

When the shadow appears while Bucky is awake, he knows. "You said _lost in war_," Bucky laughs mirthlessly. "You didn't say which."

"You look like him," the shadow muses, swelling until all the light is gone. "The first mortal that ever dared to summon me. He wanted to protect his people; the price was that they alone would remember him fondly. Next was Elisabeta, child of Vlad's line." The shadow rests against his face, his throat, his flesh arm – everywhere that skin shows. "And then you, James. _Bucky."_

He sighs into the shadow. "What is the real price?"

The shadow pulls back. It condenses until all of it is contained in a pair of wings, just floating in the air – and then pure white eyes open from nothingness. Bucky flinches back from the brightness. "You are a warrior, James Buchanan Barnes. And you will fight for me."

Bucky nods. "So long as Steve stays healthy, I'll do anything."

"He is my love's," the shadow says, those unblinking eyes still focused on Bucky. "He pledged himself, if only you would live again."

Everything in Bucky stills. "I never died," Bucky says softly.

"And that's almost the best part," the shadow chortles.

There is no other choice. Bucky lets himself loosen. "So what's the best?"

The wings come forward to wrap around him while the eyes disappear. "The best part?" the shadow whispers. "The best part, child of Elisabeta, child of Vlad, is that Steven Grant Rogers would have become Captain America, deal with you or no."

And the shadow's gone just as Steve steps into the room. "Bucky?" he asks softly. Worriedly. And Bucky just starts laughing and can't stop.

.

When he was a kid, Bucky hadn't really cared that much about their family history. His father was the son of immigrants from Ireland; his mother was the daughter of immigrants from Romania. Both of them grabbed onto life as Americans with full hands and ignored their heritage, which is where Bucky supposes he gets it. He remembers now that his middle sister, Olivia, had soaked up as much of their grandmother's knowledge from the old country as she could. Olivia's dead now, of course. He's sure there must be some record she kept, but James Barnes is dead. He can't – he has to stay dead to stay free.

The asset was mentioned in Hydra's records, but not who it had been in life before. Only two pictures still exist, both in the file Steve has secreted away somewhere. There is nothing else, thanks to Steve's friends. (… and probably thanks to the shadow, too.)

So, Bucky can't be sure. But a Vlad beloved by his own people and hated by everyone else? It's not that hard to figure out.

He should tell Steve. About his deal with the shadow. That he knows Steve made a deal of his own. That both deals were pointless but made anyway.

He should. He doesn't.

.

_2016_

They're bedded down under the stars in the Gibson Desert in Australia because neither of them had ever been to Australia before and (most likely) no one would think to look there. Bucky had suggested leaving because he had no place in New York with the Avengers, and he honestly didn't want to fight anymore. (Not until the debt was called in.)

It had surprised nobody but him when Steve said he'd be going, too. And Bucky had tried (half-heartedly) to argue, but Steve had just grabbed both his hands, looked him right in the eyes, and said, "The world can save itself next time. My place is with you – unless you don't want me there."

And he could've lied so that Steve would stay with the heroes… but he just couldn't.

So they left and wandered around. Saw the Grand Canyon. Went to Disneyland and World. Checked out Universal Studios and Six Flags and all sorts of stupid touristy crap in the United States, since neither of them had ever had the time to travel except – well.

"Where to next?" Steve had asked one bright morning.

"What about Australia?" Bucky suggested.

And here they are.

"Bucky, you awake?" Steve asks softly.

"Yup," Bucky answers just as quietly.

He hears Steve take a deep breath. He holds it for almost five minutes before exhaling to say, "There's something I need to tell you."

.

Steve traded his soul to an angel calling itself _Akrasiel_ for Bucky's life.

"It was a trick, Steve," Bucky mutters. "I never died."

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "You weren't dead. But that doesn't mean you woulda come back if Akrasiel hadn't made the deal with me."

Bucky sighs in disgust. He knows he won't win this argument.

He also slaps Steve upside the head because "You were just prayin' wide open? Anything coulda answered. Would you have dealt with anyone who showed up?"

Steve's sulky silence is answer enough so Bucky swats him again.

.

Akrasiel will call on Steve for a major conflict, along with the souls of various other warriors, healers, and peacemakers. That's all Steve knows.

They silently stare at the stars, curled up together, before Bucky says, "There's something you should know."

.

Steve, of course, slaps Bucky upside the head because "You don't even know its' name!?"

"Well, apparently my ma's family has been calling on it for centuries!" Bucky argues. "So, it's sorta like a guardian angel or something!"

Steve just swats him again.

.

As the sun is rising, Bucky asks the question that's been bothering him since the shadow told him its love had claimed Steve.

"What if we're on opposite sides?"

Steve turns his head to look at Bucky. "You think a little thing like that could become between us?"

Bucky smiles, leaning across the tiny space that separated them to kiss Steve with as much love as he can.

.

_year unknown_

_**What foolishness are you doing now?**_ Michael asks as Akrasiel returns from Earth. That is by far most angels' favorite name for the world, though it has many, of course. As do all the worlds. It is populated by the shortest-lived species in all of the worlds, and their brief lifespans are quite fascinating. They manage to pack in so much for such a short amount of time. Michael's favorite are called the _Mitsukurina owstoni. _Akrasiel has chosen to no longer mock Michael for it.

Unfortunately for the locals, quite a few of the angels enjoy playing games with the natives of Earth. However, no matter what Michael believes these days, such frivolities are in the past for Akrasiel now.

**_I've helped a poor boy, is all,_** Akrasiel says. _**I've given him hope**_.

Michael sighs. **_Surely that glimpse of the other world was enough to show us all that the creatures of Earth are to be observed, not interacted with._**

**_Of course, Michael,_** Akrasiel says. **_I'm tired. Please, excuse me._**

Akrasiel's nest is far out of the way, in a quiet, dark place. Ozryel is already there.

Akrasiel holds out Steven Grant Rogers' shining soul. Ozryel grins, flicking James Buchanan Barnes' shimmering soul into the air between them. Such strength, and so much potential. Two deals well struck.

There is a war coming. They both can feel the Mad Titan drawing ever closer, but even Michael, as yet, has not noticed.

**_And now,_** Ozryel says, pulling Akrasiel into the nest, **_we wait_**.

* * *

><p>Akrasiel - commonly known as the Archangel Raguel, angel of justice and harmony<p>

Ozryel - commonly known as Azrael, angel of death

_Mitsukurina owstoni - _goblin shark


	128. lived in

Title: lived in

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-WS by about two years; total fluff with just a hint of angst

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 250

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, bickering over minor household disagreements (toothpaste cap being left off, whether it's necessary to make the bed, etc.)

* * *

><p>For the first year, Steve didn't actually mind. Bucky took great delight in leaving his stuff everywhere in the apartment and it was wonderful that he felt secure enough to do so. And Steve left it wherever Bucky put it because it was <em>Bucky's stuff<em> and he could do whatever he wanted with it.

Steve was glad that was Bucky was happy and that was that.

But a year passed. Bucky got messier. Steve started gritting his teeth and keeping his own things tucked up neatly and cleaned the common spaces _around_ Bucky's stuff because _it was still Bucky's stuff_, goddamnit, and he would respect that.

(Before, Bucky was always so neat. All of his belongings had their proper place. But Bucky's a new person, now, and that he's here at all is a miracle.)

A year and a half into sharing the apartment, Steve finally asked, "Could you please keep the common areas a little neater, Bucky?"

In response, Bucky started moving stuff from his room to the common spaces in ever greater numbers and once Steve got past the annoyance, he realized how amazing it was.

Bucky didn't comply with the understood order – he actively _rebelled_. And then, one afternoon, he made sure to meet Steve's gaze (even though his entire body trembled at the defiance) as he toed off his slippers, and then he sedately walked back to his room.

Steve laughed, loud and long, and looked around the living room.

A little mess never hurt anybody, he decided.


	129. twenty words for darkness

Title: twenty words for darkness but none at all for light

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Matilyn Singer

Warnings: talk of violence/death/brainwashing/torture

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 425<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any. Belvedere, _I declare war against you_

* * *

><p>He turns away from the display with his face and goes to the one labeled "Howling Commandos." If Steve Rogers Captain America was his previous handler, then these men were his team. He reads and rereads the information provided before moving on to the next display.<p>

He memorizes everything for later review and returns to the display on Barnes. Barnes, who Steve Rogers Captain America called friend and dropped his only weapon for. Barnes whose display calls him a hero.

He has no memory of Barnes, or Steve Rogers Captain America, or the Howling Commandos. He has no memory that isn't pain and fear and rage - he knows their names, now, the feelings inside. He even knows the word _feeling, emotion_. He hasn't been wiped in eight days, hasn't been stored for ten.

His body aches and he isn't sure his head will ever stop hurting, inside. And he is terrified that his ex-masters will come for him, that the government will contain him somewhere, that it will be decided for a bullet to put him down.

But above the pain and above the fear… he is _angry._

He does not remember what was stolen, but he knows that it _was._ And he knows that all those who stole it are long dead. But their heirs are still alive. Their protégés. Their successors. His continued existence is a testament to their legacy.

He glances at Steve Rogers Captain America's face, towering on the wall. He does not remember being Captain America's weapon, much less friend… but he does remember Captain America pulling off his helmet, dropping his shield, not raising a hand in his own defense.

He pulled Captain America out of the water.

He nods to the image of Steve Rogers' face and departs the museum as silently as he arrived. His mission, chosen and ordered by ihimself/i, is to eradicate Hydra wherever it hides.

He was a soldier, once. Codename: Winter Soldier after that, though he does not remember ever being called anything but _asset._ (How much should he trust memories? They can be planted or pruned.)

He was a soldier. Now he is a ghost. And he will haunt all those who maintained his cage, who beat and burnt and broke him.

He is not Bucky Barnes. He is not Captain America's friend or weapon. He is simply the ghost of that man.

He steps into the sunlight, wishing he could tilt his face into the warmth but he must mask his presence from the cameras recording everywhere.

He walks away.


	130. Bless me now with your fierce tears

Title: Bless me now with your fierce tears

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dylan Thomas

Warnings: violence, death, Red Room horrors

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 360

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, she'd like to know her own origin story

* * *

><p>She was not born in 1984. That is all she knows for sure.<p>

.

No. It's not. There's more.

.

Her mother named her Natalia. Called her _little spark_. Told her to burn.

There is much that has been stolen from her. She knows that.

.

Her hands are stained with blood. She knows that, too.

.

He smiled at her, the one they called her teacher. He smiled at her and showed her the best way to kill.

_There is the clean way,_ he said, _the quick way._ He glanced toward the window because there were always watchers. _We won't be allowed to use it, often_, he said.

_But_, he added, softly, his flesh hand warm her on her cheek as he cupped her face, his silver hand firm on her arm, holding her in place as he showed where and how to cut, _when you kill for yourself, do it quickly and cleanly._

She never saw him again, after that day.

Not until Odessa.

.

She was not born in 1984.

.

He smiled at her, the one sent to kill her. He offered her a choice.

She could've killed him. Easily.

She could've taken everything she learned and sold it to the highest bidder.

Instead, she allowed them to shackle her and told them secrets.

Instead, she took what others had made her and turned into a weapon for herself.

Her hands were stained red with blood and she'd like to wash some of it out.

.

She should have known. Pierce's smile was a familiar.

.

Her mother named her Natalia and told her to burn.

.

They find Steve on the riverbank. Alive.

.

He never called her anything, her teacher.

She loved him the way children love. He was kind. He was strong.

He once broke the neck of a doctor whose hand drifted to Yelena's budding breasts. (_Yelena._ She'd forgotten. No. It was stolen.)

She loved him.

Steve still does.

.

Her mother named her Natalia. She chose Natasha.

Who is she with no masks?

.

There is one debt left.

.

"What are you doing?" Clint asks as she pushes him back into the apartment.

"You need to rest up," she tells him. "We've got work to do."


	131. that boy's a warning sign

Title: Stay away 'cause that boy's a warning sign

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from "Black Roses"

Warnings: character death; implied violence; implied bad things happening to children; a mishmash of backgrounds for Clint; spoilers through Cap2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 615

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint + Barney, Black Roses

* * *

><p>Once upon a time, there were two little orphan boys who ran away to the circus. They had all sorts of adventures and learned all sorts of things. The older boy protected the younger as best he could; that's what good older brothers do, after all.<p>

For ten years, he protected his little brother. He did all sorts of horrible things, but it was so his little brother got clothes that fit and enough food to eat and had the chance to keep on mastering the bow&arrow.

You see, he'd figured out that though he himself was pretty good at lots of things, his little brother was the best at a couple of things, and he wanted his little brother happy and safe.

Unfortunately, his little brother found out the price his safety and happiness cost, and then the older brother had to choose – his life or his little brother's.

He chose himself.

For the rest of his life, he will regret that choice.

.

Clint lived, despite Duquesne and Chisholm's efforts. He lived to remember Barney walking away. He'd been an orphan for ten years and a brother for sixteen, and now he had to figure out how to take care of himself.

Clint had quite a few skills and none that would help him in living a law-abiding life. So he didn't.

.

Being an assassin is easier than it seems. Clint likes people in general, sure, but not enough to go out of his way to save them. His loyalty has to be earned, and it's a lot harder than it was before the night his brother helped beat him into the ground.

SHIELD was always going to come calling because skills like his – well, a good marksman is a dime a dozen. But he's unparalleled except for another assassin named Bullseye, and Bullseye already turned SHIELD down.

In thirteen years, Clint will be very glad it was SHIELD and not HYDRA that recruited him.

.

Barney can do everything Clint can do, but not as well. Not as quick.

SHIELD gave Clint a choice, and HYDRA gave it to Barney, too.

Neither one of them is a true believer in anything anymore.

.

For sixteen years, Barney looked after his little brother. After, he knew that Clint lived but not much else. And now with HYDRA revealed to the world, Barney has another choice to make, twenty years too late.

.

When Black Widow uploads (almost) everything, Clint is undercover in Grodno and trying to cozy up to the daughter of a Russian mobster. He doesn't know that Barney is there on unrelated business. He isn't aware when it comes down to Barney having to choose between his own life and his little brother's.

They haven't spoken in twenty years. Haven't seen each other. But the day Barney realized that Clint was SHIELD's Hawkeye was the proudest of his life.

Half his life ago, Barney made a choice.

Clint doesn't know that SHIELD and HYDRA are both going up in flames.

Barney makes his choice and he knows with his dying breath that it's the right one this time.

.

"Fuck, Tasha, what the hell is going on!" Clint yells into the phone, on the run from half the Russian mob.

He survives.

.

In half a year, all of the bodies will finally be identified.

Clint won't know what to think, but Tasha will let him wrap his arms around her, and Cap will put a hand on his shoulder, and Stark will pour the beer.

.

Thirty years ago, Clint's parents died and his brother woke him up from an exhausted slumber to say, "C'mon, Clint, we gotta go! They're gonna separate us!"

Clint followed him.


	132. Remember me when I am gone away

Title: Remember me when I am gone away

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Christina Rosseti

Warnings: a couple weeks post-Cap2; angst; references to brainwashing/torture/violence

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 260<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky or Steve/Sam or Tony/Bruce, magic spell that gives one of them telepathy

* * *

><p>The asset wakes to <em>oh god bucky where are you where are you bucky please I'm sorry bucky I'm sorry where you are please let me find you please I'm sorry you're alive bucky I'm sorry<em>. The asset reacts by unsheathing its knife and pointing its gun but there is no one present making the sounds. The sounds are… in its head? It double and then triple-checks but it alone is present in the rotting building.

The sound continues incessantly despite the asset's solitude. It is familiar. It is the same voice that - _Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You've known me your whole life. I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend._

But how is that voice in its head? The target – the man – the mission. The man is hundreds of miles away. The asset is in deep-cover, hiding.

_bucky I'm so sorry_, the voice cries. How is the man sending the words into – they are in the asset's head. How? Not even its masters had managed to crawl into its head. There were moments of peace, between waking and missions. Now it has no peace. The man is begging as targets begged, but not for –

_bucky please let me find you you're alive I'm sorry._

"Shut up!" the asset shouts and immediately cringes back, expecting –

But there are no masters here. The asset no longer has masters. The asset is free.

_bucky_

Except from the man's voice.

But voices cannot hurt. Cannot hit or burn or cut.

The asset disregards the sound and returns to sleep.


	133. time will ease your pain

Title: time will ease your pain

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Patty Loveless

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 200

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any/any

_if my voice could reach back through the past  
>I'd whisper in your ear:<br>"Oh darling, I wish you were here"_

* * *

><p>He's fighting an alien army from outer space and twelve days ago, Bucky fell off a train.<p>

He's visiting Peggy and leaving flowers at memorials and reading names on gravestones and three months ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's living in DC and running every morning till he can't breathe, and nine months ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's going on missions and fighting bad guys (at least, he's _told_ they're bad) and a year ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's going on missions and running every morning he can and watching Peggy forget, and 18 months ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's watching an assassin rise to his feet and turn around, and a little over two years ago, Bucky fell off a train.

.

He prayed every night that Bucky would come back.

"... Bucky?"

But not like this.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

.

Four years ago, they were curled up together on a too-small bed, talking about the future.

He prayed they'd be together forever.

.

He wakes up on a riverbank beat all to hell and Bucky is alive.

He breathes through the pain and it feels like his life has finally started again.


	134. when the desert blooms

Title: I want to be there when the desert blooms

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Matilyn Singer

Warnings: references to everything in the Winter Soldier's backstory

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 335

Point of view: third

Prompt: author's choice, author's choice, "I'll not be your weapon."

* * *

><p>He's sitting on Steve's bed, feet firm on the floor, a knife on either side of him and a gun in his flesh hand. His left hand is palm up on his thigh.<p>

Steve stares at him from the doorway, still frozen in setting his shield down. If he looks away, he's sure Bucky will be gone.

"I knew you," Bucky says.

"Yeah." He nods. "And I know you. I've always known you."

Bucky inhales and slowly lets it out. "I won't be your weapon," he says. The words should be strong, sure. Instead, he only sounds afraid.

"I don't want you to be my weapon." God in heaven, Steve could kill them all right now with a smile. "Just be my friend." _Let me take care of you now, Bucky. It's my turn. It'll all be okay. No matter who I have to kill to make it that way._

Bucky looks down, twisting his lips, biting at the bottom one. "I won't go in a cage."

The remnants of SHIELD are looking for him, same as HYDRA. Same as every government that knows of him.

"I won't let them cage you," Steve promises. "We can go anywhere you want."

Bucky nods slowly. "I want," he says. "I want to stay with you."

They can't stay in New York, that's obvious. "Okay," Steve says. "I gotta pack a few things and then we'll head out."

Bucky watches without moving as Steve takes only the essentials - a change of clothes, a few unperishable foods, his toothbrush. When he's done, Steve glances around his apartment one last time. He's barely been here since moving from DC, busy looking for Bucky, tearing down Hydra. He won't miss it, he thinks. Just like his DC apartment, it never felt like home.

"Let's head out," he says and Bucky rises from the bed. He texts Sam and Natasha, _Somewhere I've got to be. Sorry. Thanks for all your help_. and leaves the phone on the table beside the door.


	135. Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it

Title: Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Taylor Swift

Warnings: violence/torture/brainwashing; post-Cap2

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 850

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Steve/+Bucky, "No matter what anyone else tells you, love is not necessarily a good thing."

* * *

><p><em>There are things that are weapons, when used dangerously. Emotions, you understand, are dangerous at the best of times. Anger can cause incidents of violence. Envy is the same.<em>

_Our weapon, Sergeant Barnes, will have no emotions beyond loyalty to the cause and the handler. Do you understand? Nod if yes._

_Ah, good. You look confused, Sergeant?_

_Fear not. Soon, in fact, you will not fear at all. Sergeant Barnes is long dead, is he not? You are our greatest weapon. You will be known only as the asset._

_Nod if you understand._

_Good._

_._

The first thing the asset feels is anger. It pushes through the greatest malfunction in all the asset's missions and allows the asset to keep beating the target long after the asset should have stood down.

The second thing the asset feels is fear as the mission falls into the water.

The third thing the asset feels is confusion that it feels anything at all.

.

It is four months after the asset's last mission that the asset realizes what _love_ is. The next day, the asset chooses to call itself James.

.

Six months after the asset's last mission, James decides to use male pronouns.

.

Eight months after the asset's last mission, James returns to Steve.

.

James feels a great deal. He has had to relearn his body's messages and the emotions that rip through him. His control is hard-won, but burning Hydra to the ground helped.

Always, the asset's targets on the close contact missions had been afraid. Had begged. Some had fought. The asset had noted everything and understood none of it.

James understands, now.

Bucky Barnes, he knows, had hated Hydra. So too does James.

.

_Hate_ scares him.

_Love_ scares him more.

.

"Bucky," Steve breathes, eyes wide.

"Steve," Bucky replies.

.

Hydra took everything from him. There is much he doesn't remember and probably never will. They left him only loyalty, but it was not true loyalty. His true loyalty has only ever been to his family and Steve and his team. Only Steve remains.

James knows that he is a man now and was a man before. But he was the asset for far longer. He is a weapon.

He chooses who wields him now.

.

"They didn't want me to remember emotions," he tells Steve late one night. "Because it would mean I remembered you."

Steve (stupidly) leapt between James and an energy blast from one of AIM's latest projects. James then proceeded to tear apart every member of AIM present, including the ones who had already surrendered.

"I love you, Stevie," James whispers, reaching out with his left hand to stroke Steve's cheek.

Steve's team fears him. SHIELD is still trying to rebuild but James knows they want to take him in. Lock him away somewhere. Perhaps put him down like a rabid animal. He's dangerous. Steve's the only reason he's still free.

James will never be caged and shackled again.

He knows that Steve loves him and that's a dangerous thing. Emotions cause foolishness. Hydra was right to take them from him because the depths of the love he feels for Steve are utterly terrifying.

"Love you, too, Buck," Steve murmurs, barely conscious.

For an entire two minutes, James had believed Steve to be dead, and it was the worst thing in his memory.

"Don't you ever do that again," he says, leaning over to rest his forehead against Steve's.

Steve says, "You either."

.

James' choice will always be Steve. He chose Steve when he knew nothing. He chose Steve when he was a boy in Brooklyn and when he was a man in the middle of war.

Love is a dangerous thing, and Steve will choose James, too. He will choose James over the Avengers and SHIELD, and when it comes down to it, he walks away at James' side.

Steve has fought his whole life. He has sought out fights. Bucky Barnes fought when he had to. The asset's only purpose was violence. And James –

"What do you want?" Steve asks him.

James – James says, "I want to feel safe." He has never felt safe outside of Steve's presence.

"Then let's leave," Steve says. "Not fight anymore."

Bucky Barnes would've argued that Steve couldn't stop fighting if he tried. The asset would have simply followed silently. But James asks, "Are you sure?"

"I don't want you to be my weapon, James," Steve says. "You're my friend. You're my – my – the other half of me." He reaches out to clutch James' shoulder and leans in, resting their foreheads together. "You're not happy here. If you're not happy, I'm not happy. So let's leave. I've done my part. I'm done."

"Where will we go?" James asks.

Steve laughs softly and shrugs. "The world's a big place. Let's explore."

.

_He still fights, Dr. Zola. It is extraordinary. I fear that if we dig too far, we will do permanent damage._

_Of course, sir. He heals very quickly._

_Yes. I understand. Nothing left but a blank slate that we will write over._

_Dr. Zola, please... you know the subject best. Instruct us._


	136. from dust I have sprung

Title: from dust I have sprung

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Lord Byron

Warnings: post-Cap2. talk of brainwashing/torture/death.

Pairings: implied pre and post-Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 505<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, _I brought some marshmallows. Let's burn this world down_

* * *

><p>He finds Bucky in one of Hydra's training facilities, staring at one of those goddamned chairs surrounded by dead and dying Hydra agents.<p>

"I'm not who you knew," Bucky says without looking at him. Bucky laughs; it sounds rusty, painful. "I remember _Frankenstein,_ you know. The man that was, he loved that book. Frankenstein and the monster."

Steve says, "Frankenstein _was_ the monster."

At that, Bucky turns to look at him. "I'm not done yet," he says. "Maybe I never will be. I'm not stopping till they're all dead and burned."

Steve nods. "You mind if I tag along?"

Sam's gone home. Steve doesn't answer calls from Stark or Fury anymore. Natasha still texts him sometimes, but she's busy trying to save Barton from whatever mess he's in. Coulson (who, somehow, is not dead? seems to be the year for resurrections) has taken over SHIELD and is trying to rebuild it from the ground up, which… Steve's tabled that rage, for now. There's only so much anger a body can take. Sharon (who is Peggy's niece? that's awesome, Fury, thank you for that mindfuck) told him that she was sorry, but his visits were causing Peggy stress, and now that he's been chasing Bucky around the globe, he can't make it in anymore, anyway.

"This isn't a back alley," Bucky says.

"I know that," Steve says, choking down the tears that won't help here. "This is war, Bucky."

Bucky flinches. "I'm not that guy," he says, shaking his head. "Don't call me that."

"Okay." Steve takes a step closer, smiling when Bu—he doesn't move back. "What do you wanna be called, then?"

"I saw the exhibit. You said - _James Buchanan Barnes_." He glances at Steve and then looks down. "You said, _You're my friend._"

"I am your friend." Steve risks another step. "It doesn't matter what those bastards did, or what you call yourself, or even what you do, now that you've got your mind back. I've lived without you for two years and I'm not gonna anymore." He exhales noisily. "Not unless you send me away."

"James," Steve's oldest friend says. "It's the name his mother gave us." He darts a glance at Steve. "Is that accurate?"

Steve nods, smiling. "The guy I knew, he didn't wanna go by it because there were so many James' around, but it's what your mama called you."

"James," Steve's oldest friend says again. "Call me James. And you're Steve."

"Hey, James," Steve says. "Nice to meet you." He gaze slides from James to that fucking chair. "You mind if I destroy that thing?"

James turns back to look at it. "I remembered you," he says. "And they took it away. Over and over and over again. I didn't – I never fought them, after. I just… let them take everything away." His arm whirs as he clenches his hand into a fist. "They're all gonna die, Steve."

Steve made a promise, once. Instead of keeping it, he crashed a plane.

So he says, "Sounds good to me."


	137. seal the hushed casket of my soul

Title: seal the hushed casket of my soul

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats

Warnings: Post-Cap2. talk of torture/brainwashing/death

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 290<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, _Judge if you want. / We are all going to die. / I intend to deserve it._

* * *

><p>They took a decent man, stripped him of everything but the skills hard-won in war, poured in intel and frost, taught him to obey, and then unleashed him on their enemies.<p>

(No. He was never unleashed. He was tethered the whole time but didn't have the awareness to recognize it.)

The world thinks he's a monster.

There is no leash, now. There's only the ice thawing, the man opening his own eyes after decades of forced sleep inside his own body.

He was a decent man. He almost remembers, sometimes. He was a decent man, an exemplary soldier, a good friend. And he was a terrifyingly effective weapon.

He can have no life, now. He's aware enough to realize that. If he's found, he'll either be the scapegoat for everything and put down or wiped again to be someone else's weapon.

He's no one's weapon, now. No one but his own. Never again anyone's but his own.

They spent a great deal of time turning him into a ghost. He turns it back on them.

He will self-terminate before allowing anyone to capture him, but until then, he's going to hunt down all the rats and the heads and the people who thought it was a good idea to take a decent man and strip him of everything that made him decent.

(It took a long time. He remembers that. Bucky Barnes was a pretty swell guy. That last day he could call himself Bucky Barnes, all he'd had left was his hatred. Then they took even that.)

After the implementation of Project Insight, Project Winter Soldier would be obsolete and terminated. He knows they waited too long.

He takes great joy in making sure they know it, too.


	138. in the east of Eden planted

Title: in the east of Eden planted

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 345<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Clint Barton, Hawkeye fanvid to Jen Titus' "Oh Death"

* * *

><p>Clint Barton survives. Whatever happens, he lives through it. He flourishes in suffering.<p>

He's given the choice to join SHIELD or be executed for the vast amount of assassinations he'd completed.

"Well, guess I'm joinin' SHIELD," he tells Coulson, the stiff in a suit who's 'recruiting' him.

Clint Barton survives. The price of that survival doesn't really bother him all that much.

.

Clint Barton has an older brother who betrays him.

He won't know for many years why it feels so familiar.

.

Clint Barton jumps off buildings and thinks for just a moment that he should be able to fly.

.

"You have heart," the alien god-prince says and Clint hears a voice like thunder murmuring _you always have_.

.

Tasha hits him really hard in the head.

There is a tree somewhere in the world that grew too tall too quickly, that grows without enough water to feed a weed. There is never enough sunlight but still the tree grows.

Clint wakes up and he wants to say it was too easy but there is still an alien god-prince in need of defeating, and there is a voice like thunder chuckling slow and deep and wide as the sky.

There is a tree.

Two alien god-princes return to their homeland and Clint kisses Tasha's forehead and he doesn't tell SHIELD goodbye.

.

Clint Barton survives.

There is a tree waiting and he dreams of flying.

.

Clint walks through the desert and neither hunger nor thirsts. His skin doesn't burn. He leaves no footprints.

Clint stands in front of the tree, hearing wingbeats, and reaches out.

He stands in the midst of the maelstrom as thunder fills the air.

"Oh," he says as the world settles. "Well, this'd been useful a couple weeks ago."

.

He could return to Heaven. Or perhaps storm Hell and rescue –

But no. He'll do none of that. There is nothing in Heaven he wants and nothing in Hell he needs.

Azrael leapt from Heaven and cast everything away.

Clint Barton walks out of the desert and the voice like thunder promises, _in time_.


	139. I know not where to go

Title: if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats

Warnings: violence, torture, brainwashing, death

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 650

Point of view: third

Prompt: author's choice, any, "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to become a villain."

* * *

><p>Bucky Barnes died in the mountains. Died saving Captain America's life. Died a hero.<p>

He should've stayed dead.

.

The asset is a magnificent weapon. Terrifying.

Great care is taken to ensure that it stays a weapon with no mind of its own.

.

Bucky Barnes died in the mountains.

No. That is inaccurate.

Bucky Barnes died in care of Hydra in 1957. It was not an easy death. It was slow, inch by agonizing inch. He fought till the very end.

For a long time, Hydra remembers.

Hydra should not have forgotten.

.

The Winter Soldier is not in the files released on the internet. No clear image was recovered of the madman who attacked Captain America in DC. Captain America gives one interview when he's finally out of the hospital, before vanishing from the public eye for three years and nine months.

Captain America promises that the man who attacked him is dead. (Very few notice (and no one listens to them) that he didn't name anyone in particular. Many men attacked him over the course of those two days.)

.

Bucky Barnes died.

.

"You should let me go," the ex-asset tells the ex-target. "'m'broken. Put me down."

"Not ever," the ex-target tells the ex-asset. "I don't care what they made you do. I don't care where we go. Just please let me go with you."

They stare at each other in silence for eight minutes and 39 seconds; the ex-asset counts. Finally, _he_ sighs and sags back against the wall. "Don't wanna be caged," he confesses.

_Steve_ promises, "You won't be."

.

Bucky Barnes died.

He begins to resurrect when Steve Rogers, in the midst of battling for his life, pauses to ask, "Bucky?" in shock and awe and just the smallest bit of heartrending joy.

.

They never called their weapon _Winter Soldier_ to its face. Occasionally, they gave it a male pronoun, depending on the particular handler or scientist's sensibility.

The asset noticed but was not programmed to care.

Bucky cares a great deal. To Hydra's detriment, Steve Rogers cares more.

.

Bucky Barnes died a hero.

The Winter Soldier goes down in history as a nameless madman who worked for Hydra and did his best to kill Captain America so that Hydra's masterplan could be initiated.

(Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier's best friend destroys a gym when he learns that.)

.

When needed for the supervillains and would-be world-enders, Captain America (the original flavor) comes out of retirement. Sam Wilson has taken over the designation, with an upgrade of wings. No one knows where Captain America retired to.

(In fact, Steven Grant and his husband James live in Eguisheim, American boys fleeing from their disapproving families. James speaks French like a native, but Steven's American accent is still quite obvious, no matter how much he tries to hide it.

James has a very high-tech prosthetic left arm, and he never talks about how he lost his real arm. Steven, though, says that James is a hero.)

Sometimes, if the threat is high enough, someone else arrives to the battle with (original flavor) Captain America. He wears a mask that covers his entire face _(not a muzzle_) and gloves, in full body armor. He's as fast as (original flavor) Cap, and seemingly as strong. Nobody knows his name or his story, but he's got a massive following.

After every battle, though, (original flavor) Cap and the masked stranger disappear.

(A lot of people think they go home together, to wherever that is. A lot of other people think that's ridiculous.)

.

In Eguisheim, James drapes himself across Steven's back as Steven' sketches, his head resting on Steven's shoulder.

"Are you happy, Stevie?" he asks softly.

"I am," Steven says, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of James' head. "What about you, Buck?"

James sighs. "I'd forgotten how it felt," he says. "But, yeah. I am."


	140. you know for me, it's always you

Title: you know for me, it's always you

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Taylor Swift

Warnings: violence, references to brainwashing/torture

Pairings: post-Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 400

Point of view: third

Prompt: author's choice, any, (504): i'm trying to reconcile what i did last night with who i am as a person.

* * *

><p>A part of him is reeling in shock, even twelve hours later. That part of him is sure he should stop, hole up somewhere, and <em>think.<em> Call up Natasha and Stark, definitely Sam.

The rest of him watches Buc-_James_ watch him, eyes shuttered like Bucky's never were.

James doesn't say a thing. He's coiled tension, waiting for Steve's orders, and Steve ihates/i that. Hates Hydra and Zola and SHIELD and Pierce. Hates himself. Even in the war, when Steve gave orders, Bucky would have some smartass remark and he'd obey, most of the time, but he'd do it with a flare.

But James...

Twelve hours ago, James got them into a research facility. It had a recalibration chair. James had kept darting glances toward it, his breathing just a bit hurried. There were a few guards, but most everyone in that facility was a scientist. Useless in a fight. They were terrified and begging for their lives the second they realized James was there.

Steve had gone in there planning to call in Hill, have her take them in for being Hydra. Those were the orders he'd given James, and only the guards had been put down. The scientists were still sniveling.

"James," he said softly, "begin the self-destruct protocol for this facility." He didn't watch James leave, eyes focused on the scientists cowering on the floor.

"Tell me," he commanded them gently, "how many of you ever dealt with the asset?"

Half of them raised their hands. He killed those monsters first.

And now, he's watching James watch him. He killed people in the war, and he killed people on SHIELD missions. But that was always in the heat of battle, self-defense.

Part of him thinks he should stop. Go home. But home is 73 years ago, and he can never go back to it. And he knows –

"New mission protocol," he says, and James' head tilts to the side, waiting. "No more detaining unless we know for sure there's non-Hydra present."

James nods once.

The history books, the public – there's an image of Captain America, a belief in who he is. Captain America is an idol, an ideal. He's not real. And Steve's not playing the game anymore.

"We should rest," he says. There's a manufacturing plant half a day away and they're hitting it within the week.

Part of him thinks he should feel guilt.

He doesn't.


	141. beneath the birth of the sky

Title: beneath the birth of the sky

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Cap2, violence

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 130

Prompt: MCU, Steve/or& Bucky, Bucky keeps saving Steve's life

* * *

><p>The asset leaves the mission on the riverbank.<p>

.

_He_ circles back around the ex-mission as the ex-mission chases after _him_ and shoots the three members of the STRIKE team stealthily approaching the ex-mission.

.

The robot zooms in from the north while Captain America is distracted; James uses up the rest of his ammunition taking it down and then has to utilize hand-to-hand combat to escape before Captain America's team attempt to apprehend him (again).

.

"Bucky!" Steve goddamn Rogers shouts as Bucky falls over the edge.

"Stay up there, you fuckin' punk!" Bucky shouts back because if Steve gets himself killed after Bucky broke cover to save his life –

Wilson swoops in to catch him, shoves him into Steve's arms, and returns to the battle.

"Bucky!" Steve says again.

Bucky sighs. "Hi, Steve."


	142. mercy of one voice speaking

Title: the mercy of one voice speaking from far away

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov

Warnings: takes place after Avengers2

Pairings: maybe implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 400

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Steve/+Bucky, _oh, to see what they did to you... It would break your captain's heart. _

* * *

><p>He still goes to the memorial. Sits at the base, stares at the stars. It's quiet, here.<p>

He talks, too. Tells the granite things he tells no one else. Natasha would listen, he knows. So would Sam. Even Bruce and Clint and St- _Tony_, if he let Tony fiddle with something while he talked.

Three days out of the ice, he'd snuck away from SHIELD and come here, traced the name with eyes and fingers and lips, and talked and talked and talked until the sun came up. There's no body in the dirt, no ashes in an urn – two soldiers who never made it home, names side-by-side, and little things left by mourners and visitors and tourists to honor heroes who died for their country.

Steve didn't die. Neither, it turned out, did Bucky.

But he still comes here. He did every week for two years, talking to a ghost because he couldn't talk to anyone else. Even after he started seeing Peggy – but she'd understand, if she knew. If she remembered.

Steve Rogers had Bucky Barnes when he (literally) had nothing else. Bucky went to war and Steve followed when he could. Bucky died and Steve went down when he could've found a way to live. Two years later (decades in the future) and Steve shouldn't have been shocked when that mask fell off and Bucky turned.

He talks and talks and talks, through grief and rage, through joy and regret, through enough guilt it'd drown him if he didn't have hatred to counteract it.

Bucky's out there, somewhere. Ultron is finally down and Steve isn't needed by this team (not his, not yet, maybe not ever if — ).

They've all talked at him, what's left of SHIELD and their therapists, their doctors, their _specialists_. Bucky's damaged, Bucky's the enemy, Bucky this that and the other. Except, they don't use his name. They use what Hydra called him, and Steve's fists clench every time, he grits his teeth, he focuses his eyes on the nearest wall and he thinks one simple thing: _Bucky's alive and so am I_.

His eyes trace the name. His fingers follow. "I'll see you soon," he says because this is a second chance and he's going to grip it with all his strength, track the line to wherever it ends, and he does not care in the least who tries to stop him or gets in the way.


	143. No more water but fire next time

Title: No more water but fire next time

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: depression, Winter Soldier's canon backstory, violence

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky, maybe

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 560

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any. _You're what keeps me believing the world's not gone dead._

* * *

><p>He's spent so long drowning that he lets himself go blank when he surfaces, staring and staring, shoved to his knees, dragged to a van, and it's not until his perfect hearing catches Natasha's little gasps of pain that he blinks and comes back.<p>

He's spent so long barely living that he'd forgotten he's alive.

He's alive. They thawed him and put him to work, aliens and mad scientists and spies and _bad guys, Cap, do what you do best, what you were made for_.

Because he was, wasn't he. Made for this. Cooked up in a lab.

He's alive. _breathe in, hold it, breathe out. breathe in, hold it, breathe out. that's it, stevie, you can do this. breathe in, hold it, breathe out._

So is Bucky. Somehow. Bucky is alive and doesn't know who either of them is, and – and –

Hill breaks them out, takes them to Fury, and he gets platitudes and apologies and half-assed lies, and he burns down Hydra for the second time (for the same man), and Bucky beats the shit out of him and he beats the shit out of Bucky, trying not to scream _I'm sorry_ the whole time, and then he falls.

He hits the water and he's gone.

.

He surfaces to medics shouting at each other. He goes back under.

.

He's alive. So is Bucky.

He has to heal. Has to duck the media and the authorities. Has to come up with a plan.

What he tells his friends and what he hoards in his heart are different things.

Captain America has done his duty. Steve Rogers, though, fell down on the job and he's finally standing back up, getting back in the ring.

Steve Rogers has been drowning for over 70 years but he's surfaced, now. He's finally surfaced. He's alive.

There is only one thing left for Steve Rogers to do.

.

Sam doesn't say anything the first time Steve executes a blubbering Hydra operative, already on his knees with his hands behind his head. Sam flinches, though, and doesn't look at Steve for almost five hours.

Sam doesn't say anything the second, third, or fourth time, either, because the blubbering Hydra operatives were all involved in the Winter Soldier project somehow.

Sam does speak up the first time Steve points his gun at a Hydra operative begging for her life who had nothing to do with the Winter Soldier project.

Steve listens to Sam's argument. Then he pulls the trigger.

.

Sam goes home and Steve misses him for a little while. But he's got his mission. He's breathing and the world's in color, and he's not going through the motions because there's nothing else to do.

He's doing this for Bucky. There's nothing else he'd rather do, except be by Bucky's side.

None of Steve's childhood scars made it onto his new body. None of his new wounds scar.

His lungs don't stutter and hitch anymore. He can take a full breath and hold it, never have to worry about his lungs failing.

He almost drowned, when he was a kid. Bucky saved him.

Bucky saves him every time.

.

He's spent more time drowning than he's spent breathing air.

But he's not drowning anymore. He's alive. So is Bucky.

And when he finally catches up, when Bucky lets him catch up, they'll face the world together, alive and alive and alive.


	144. medicine of the soul

Title: medicine of the soul

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: angst, depression

Pairings: some Steve/Peggy and Steve/Bucky leanings

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 490

Point of view: third

Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Bucky +/Steve, He's pretty much back to his old self except for one thing

* * *

><p>Bucky used to laugh at the stupidest things. Once he was laughing, Steve had to, too, just because. Bucky could hardly ever explain what was so funny, but he had the most contagious laugh. He was so beautiful when he was laughing. The rest of the time, too, of course, but when he was laughing... by god, there was nothing more beautiful.<p>

Then came the War, and Peggy, she was beautiful, too. She didn't laugh as easily as Bucky, but it was just as contagious, just as gorgeous. Steve wouldn't have ever been able to say which was prettier, but then, neither of them would've asked.

He knows he could've loved Peggy, given time. She sure was something else.

Bucky fell, and there's nothing after that. No color, no light. Just… existence. Existence, and Schmidt. Well. He could take care of one of those, couldn't he?

Turns out, he could take care of both.

.

.

.

Except, he didn't.

Schmidt died, but Hydra and Steve didn't. And Peggy's still got a beautiful laugh, but even with her, there's not much worth laughing about in the shining future. It's so loud, so bright, and there's still missions, and goddamned alien armies from outer space, and at least it's something to do. Keep busy and eventually, the misery'll work itself out.

Bucky used to laugh about the stupidest things. It might be silly, but it's his laugh Steve misses most.

Bucky doesn't laugh much these days. Banner and Stark's (certified, trusted) doctors say it's a miracle, how far he's come. It's barely been two years. He's a human again (he never _wasn't_ a human, but some battles, Steve doesn't fight anymore), and he's got hobbies and TV shows he watches, errands he runs, meals he cooks for the whole team (which he's on, has been for three months), he visits Peggy and goes to meetings with Sam, he talks to Jarvis instead of a psychiatrist or any doctor at all, and Jarvis keeps quiet about whatever Bucky says (except that once, very early on, when Bucky had explained how much better Steve and the world would be without him). And sometimes, Bucky even smiles.

But he almost never laughs. And it's silly, such a stupid worry, but Steve wants that laughter back, Bucky's full-bodied laugh, how every part of him was just so joyful.

He hoards Bucky's smiles, his few (barely-there) chuckles, that one time his grin lit up his whole face. He replays them on the bad days, and tries to earn more on the good.

Bucky's sisters are dead. Peggy never saw his true laughter. Steve's the only person left who remembers. And it's so selfish, because Bucky's a miracle, to have come so far. He's happy. He's living. Steve's grateful, he really is. The world's such a bright place, when he can look over and meet Bucky's eyes.

But he really does miss how Bucky used to laugh at the stupidest things.


	145. I, love, I

Title: I, love, I

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: character death

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount:<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, author's choice, a love for the ages - if only they hadn't missed their chance meeting

* * *

><p>Bucky decides to take the shortcut home from Pa's work instead of the long way, so he doesn't see the little boy getting beat up by three bigger boys.<p>

He still drops out of school to help make ends meet because he has three little sisters, and he still gets drafted after America joins the war. He's a bit softer, maybe, than he might have been, but still a brilliant soldier. When the 107th is captured, no one comes for them.

Hydra still gets their Winter Soldier.

.

Steve limps home and Ma fusses at him. He never stops fighting but the only person on his side is Ma, and she dies when he's 18. He takes work wherever he can get it, and whenever his body is up to it. He tries enlisting a dozen times.

He gets in a fight at the Stark Expo; Dr. Erskine sees it and gives him a chance, which he grabs onto with both hands.

It's the hardest thing he ever does, but Steve becomes Captain America. He spends a year making the circuit selling war bonds before Peggy convinces Phillips to give him a chance, and they get word of Schmidt's plan to bomb everything.

Captain America still goes into the ice.

.

Steve doesn't recognize the Winter Soldier. No one does anymore.

The Winter Soldier doesn't know the man on the bridge.

On the helicarrier, Steve wears the new uniform and doesn't hesitate; the Winter Soldier shoots to kill.

Project Insight is defeated but it costs Captain America and the Winter Soldier both their lives.

.

(One morning, while he was watching Steve try to eat, Bucky asked, "What d'ya think would've happened if we never met?"

Steve had shrugged. "You woulda been better off, Buck," he said, "and I'd'a been worse."

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. "Think you got that backwards, punk.")


	146. a leftover rage I cannot undo

Title: a leftover rage I cannot undo

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: violence; references to the Winter Soldier's backstory

Pairings: past Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 390<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky, Bucky wants the whole world to bleed, but for Steve's sake he only aims at HYDRA

* * *

><p>What he never says is that he remembers everything. What he doesn't say is that he's remembered before and they wiped him. Over and over and over - if he was out for longer than 12 hours, he got a wipe. Because he remembered quickly, who the enemy was. He remembered, and he fought, and he got wiped.<p>

All told, he was out of the ice for less than six months. They'd wiped him a lot in the early days, back when they were still 'training' him, trying to kill the man and keep only the reflexes.

For almost a week, they thought they'd succeeded.

Steve finds him sitting on the dirt and watching a training facility burn. Steve talks to him the way they used to talk to feral cats and prisoners they liberated in Europe. Steve tells him they were friends, best friends, and teammates and everything in the world to each other. Steve tells him that his name is James Buchanan Barnes but he preferred Bucky. Steve tells him that it was Hydra, not him.

He remembers everything from when he was awake and scattered flashes of dreams from when he wasn't. He's even looked through the data the Black Widow uploaded – he's not mentioned in it. There was no recoverable footage of the Winter Soldier from the attack on Project Insight or the fight prior to it. What's left of SHIELD has neither the time nor capabilities for capturing him, should they wish to.

He remembers everything, but it has been a long journey for him, and he is not the man Steve knew. He wants his vengeance, and he wants it bloody and burnt into the face of the earth because he has shaped it and it is his to destroy.

He is not the man Steve remembers; he says it to Steve but once. He says it but once because Steve's face crumples and he reaches, and his grip is strong and gentle and he whispers, "I love you anyway."

He wants everything to bleed for what he has survived. He is a ghost and he wants to haunt the world.

For Steve, he limits his wrath to Hydra.

He remembers everything. (He doesn't think of what will happen when Hydra is bled dry and ground into the dirt, or what he'll bleed next.)


	147. You were mine but I lent you out

Title: You were mine but I lent you out

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: references to violence and death

Pairings: implied post-Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 300

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any superhero universe or cop show. Any. Sometimes it doesn't pay to save the world.

* * *

><p>Three times now, he's put the world ahead. Stopped Schmidt, put the plane in the ice, thought that'd be the end of it. Fought aliens twelve days out of the ice, helped stop the invasion. And then Project Insight, when it turned out Hydra was never gone at all.<p>

Fought Bucky for the sake of the world. _Hurt_ Bucky so that millions would live.

For this. For scapegoating and sham trials and people who've already decided who to string up to salvage their pride.

He lets Stark and Natasha handle it, first. Lets them try. He's looking for Bucky, trying to make sure he's not hurt and alone and afraid. Three years out of the ice, three times saving the world – three times he thinks Bucky is dead, before Bucky finally lets Steve find him.

And then. Then Stark contacts Sam.

He saves them at some cost to Bucky. Every time. And Stark promises they have it in hand.

Scapegoating. Sham trials. Footage of Bucky on the bridge, mission after mission after mission in the files. Someone has to pay.

What'd he even bother fighting for, if this is how it ends?

When he's more Bucky than not, which is more often as days of quiet pass, Bucky says, "Oughta let 'em have me, Stevie."

"That's never gonna happen," Steve says. Sam goes back to DC, tries to help with Natasha and Stark and Banner, and even Coulson, when he comes back from the dead, because why the fuck not. Ms. Potts and Hill, they have some plan in play, and they promise to call Steve when they need him.

_The needs of the many_, Steve thinks, watching one of the films Sam swears is vital, Bucky asleep and slumped against him, _no longer outweigh the needs of the one._


	148. armor

Title: armor

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Cap2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 390

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "if you want to be inconspicuous, don't wear a bright orange hoody!"

* * *

><p>At first, Buc-<em>James<em> wears what Steve gives him and nothing else. For three weeks, he wears a simple white t-shirt and loose sweatpants, goes bare when Steve finally decides they need to be washed, and pulls them right back on after they're dry.

James graduates to other colors, work-out shorts instead of sweatpants, and cycles through five different outfits for two months.

He talks sometimes. Writes notes that become pages and pages long other times, leaving them around the apartment for Steve to find. Steve saves them all carefully, and on the bad days, he rereads them.

Six months after they move in, James disappears for an entire day. Steve does not panic. He doesn't call Stark or Natasha, doesn't text Sam. Instead, he sits his ass on the couch and watches something he'll never be able to recall, because he promised James, back in the beginning, this was _not_ a prison. Steve was _not_ a new handler. He waits.

James comes back just after sunset with a duffle bag. Steve greets with him a big smile and chokes out, "Hey, James, where'd you go?"

"Got clothes," James says. He drops the bag off in his room, eats dinner with Steve, watches a truly terrible movie about tornado sharks, and then showers before going to his room for the night.

In the morning, he comes into the kitchen for breakfast wearing clothes Steve has never seen before: a blindingly bright orange shirt and red – "Are those blue jeans?" Steve asks.

James looks down at his legs, then back up at Steve. "Thought the serum fixed your eyes," he says, tilting his head. "These're green, Stevie."

Steve blinks, frowning. "They're red," he says.

James chuckles, biting his lip. "Sure they are."

Steve looks from the red jeans to James' blue eyes and back. "You're messin' with me," he says, trying to hide just how happy he is at the thought. James' grin just grows.

From then on, James chooses the loudest, most gaudy clothes he can find. It's weeks before Steve can heckle him about it because it's his choice and he never asks permission. He never chooses anything black, gray, or white, and some days he'll invite Steve shopping, while other days he goes on his own.

Steve doesn't ask why James picks the hideous things he picks. He doesn't need to.


	149. not the promised land

Title: there in the distance, not the promised land

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Richard Siken

Warnings: Violence/torture/death - basically, if it happens in the Winter Soldier's canon backstory, it's referenced here

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1290

Point of view: third

Prompt: Author's choice, any, It's not a miracle we needed

* * *

><p>They took a good man, ripped out everything that made him good, tore him down to the base and then ripped it out too, poured in ice and pain, sealed him back up, and called themselves gods for they had created something new.<p>

They were not gods. They created nothing new.

They labeled their weapon 'Winter Soldier' and used it quite effectively. They trained other, less-effective, weapons, guided history as they chose, and remade the world.

The smart ones feared the Winter Soldier. The fools believed the Winter Soldier had no mind with which to turn. Knives and guns can be used by any hand, but the Winter Soldier was neither.

No, the Winter Soldier was something worse.

.

There was a good man, a good soldier, a good brother, a good son, a good friend. Everybody liked him. He was bright, brilliant, brave. Loyal, kind, sweet. He talked to people like they mattered, comforted scared soldiers, wove stories of starlight to give tired men back the strength to fight.

History remembers Bucky Barnes as the only Howling Commando to give his life, as Steve Rogers' brother. Hundreds of men remember him as a steady voice and strong hands.

Steve Rogers remembers Bucky Barnes as the other half of his soul, as the only reason he survived to adulthood, as the only reason he ever became Captain America.

.

They took a good man and tore out everything that made him good – or so they thought. But it was never gone. It was only buried.

What is buried can be found.

What is buried is _angry_.

.

They called themselves gods for they created something new. They reformed a man into a weapon and they used it to shape the course of the world.

They called it _the asset_.

Zola asked the asset, "What is your name?"

The asset answered, "Winter Soldier."

The asset lied.

.

Guns and knives and crowbars and bombs feel nothing. Weapons do not care whose hand holds them.

Bucky Barnes died. Winter Soldier blinked open its eyes and obeyed.

They celebrated. They tried to make more.

The Red Room came the closest, but those weapons were put to a different use.

There is only one Winter Soldier. And as the years pass, it grows steadily less effective and requires ever more maintenance.

.

Some of them never feared the Winter Soldier. Oh, they understood the danger in its body, the threat it could be – but they knew it would never turn on them. Weapons cannot betray. The Winter Soldier was programmed very well.

When he was a boy, Arnim Zola read _Frankenstein/_.

When he was a boy, so did Bucky Barnes.

.

Steve, Natasha knows, thinks that it's a miracle Bucky Barnes somehow survived. It's an answered prayer.

Natasha knows Bucky Barnes did not survive, and it's not a miracle at all. She and Sam and Bruce and Tony all try to talk to him before he begins his quest, and he hears, but he doesn't listen.

Even if some part of that man Steve knew _is _in there, it doesn't mean Bucky Barnes is the same person, or ever could be again.

.

They called themselves gods. Time has already eradicated everyone who had a hand in the Winter Soldier's origin, but their heirs and successors are still alive, and theirs, and what is buried crawls out of the grave, furious and starving and vengeful.

Weapons do not turn of their own volition. They can be grabbed by an enemy and used – but they have no minds, no wills.

It was no miracle that allowed Bucky Barnes to survive.

.

When they were boys and Steve was laid up in bed, shaking from a fever, Bucky read him the entirety of _Frankenstein_ in one day. The whole time, Steve was sympathetic to the monster. Bucky went back and forth, but he knew he definitely didn't like the doctor.

.

The smart ones feared the Winter Soldier. In the end, the fear is justified.

.

They took a good man and they buried him beneath the ice. The thing about ice, though, is that it melts. The thing about ice is that enough of it together can shape the world.

.

"… Bucky?" Steve asks, chest heaving, bruises forming and healing, his pulse loud in his ears.

It is the most important question he will ever ask.

.

Sometimes, a single crack is enough.

.

In a small town somewhere in the world, a man walks into a library. He finds the novel _Frankenstein_, goes to a corner, gets comfortable, and reads the whole thing.

He rises to his feet, re-shelves the novel, and departs as silently as he arrived.

.

If a ghost does not wish to be located, it will not be.

Monsters must be hunted down and destroyed.

Good men sometimes do horrible things, and horrible things sometimes happen to good men.

His friends think Steve Rogers is so optimistic it borders on delusional.

.

There is a memorial in both Brooklyn and Washington DC. Bucky Barnes never made it home, so there's also an empty grave with a lovely headstone.

One year to the day after Project Insight, a copy of _Frankenstein_ is left on the grave.

.

They called themselves gods and claimed the Winter Soldier was merely the first of the greatest army the world would ever know.

.

An old apartment building in Brooklyn was repurposed as an office building. There's a Starbucks on the first floor, and Steve Rogers goes there most mornings.

This morning, he's reading a beat-up copy of _Frankenstein_, sipping a peppermint hot cocoa, and trying not to hope too hard.

.

There are people always watching Steve Rogers, including Jarvis. He is to report to Sir anything of note.

This morning, a man sits down across from Steve Rogers. The man wears a blue hoodie, a blue ballcap, dark jeans, heavy boots, and gloves on both hands. His face is stubbled, his dark hair pulled back, and he is expressionless.

All of the watchers try to report to their superiors, but their technology fails.

Had Jarvis a mouth, he would smile as Steve Rogers closes his book, offers the beverage to the man across from him, and then they stand in concert and walk away.

It is an hour before any report is made and by then it is far too late.

.

"You look at me like I'm a miracle," he says.

Steve smiles. "That's because you are."

.

Gods do not bleed or die.

Men do.

.

They took a good man and tried to break him apart so they could piece him back together how they liked. They unmade a man and remade a monster. They gave it a label, not a name.

But the monster asks, "Who the hell is Bucky?"

The monster says, "But I knew him."

They took a good man and buried him beneath decades of ice and pain and fear.

In the end, more of them die than anyone else.

.

"What do you want to be called?" Steve asks. They're driving somewhere; he doesn't know, he just follows directions.

"I am not Bucky Barnes," he says. He will not be Bucky Barnes.

"I know," Steve says softly.

"I can be James," he says.

.

They took a good man and tore him down, but they never killed him. They buried him but he clawed his way free.

"They'll hunt us," James says.

Steve looks at him and then up at the sky, dotted with stars. It's a cool night. Dark out here, away from civilization.

Steve knows that the Winter Soldier wasn't the only monster made for war. It's time he stopped letting others control him. Time to show them just what he can do.

So he looks back at James, and he smiles, and he says, "Let them."


	150. colors come slowly

Title: colors come slowly

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov

Warnings: post-Cap2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 490<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: Author's choice; author's choice; _the colors of the century are red, white, and black. _(Thea Gilmore, "Red, White, and Black")

* * *

><p>"I have red in my ledger," she says when she finds him.<p>

He looks at her, red dripping off his hands, and he asks quietly, "Can it be wiped out?"

Her lips are bright red, her hair flaming in the sun, and she says, "No."

.

Steve looks down at the blank page, tapping the end of the pencil against his chin. Sam told him they had to take a day of rest, and then Sam ate a hearty breakfast and went back to bed.

He could reread the file he's had memorized for months. He could call Stark or Hill to see if anything has changed. He could wander around the town they limped into last night, see the sights.

Instead, he's staring at the first page of a new sketchpad trying to think of something to draw that won't hurt. Finally, he sighs and flips it closed, pulls out his phone, and calls Stark.

.

He's wearing a dark hoodie, dark jeans, boots, hair pulled back from his face. Probably armed, though of course he doesn't need weapons to be dangerous. The power was cut prior to the assault so it's dark in the lab – whatever emergency generators they had have either been destroyed or powered down.

Steve can see the way the front of his hoodie is wet. "Are you hurt?" he asks.

He bites his bottom lip, glancing down, and Steve just wants – so many things. "It was my hands," is what he finally says, looking at Steve as he brings his right hand to his abdomen to cover the blood. "They used my hands. My – my body. But it wasn't me." He smiles, just the barest hint, and uses his left hand to gesture around them. _"This_ was me."

He steps forward and stumbles. It takes every shred of willpower he has for Steve to not lunge to catch him. But when he doesn't right himself and keeps going down, Steve meets him there, and when he leans in, Steve carefully puts one arm across his shoulders and uses the other to see how bad the injury is.

"I'll live," he murmurs into the base of Steve's throat. "But I don't want to wake up in a cage."

"You won't," Steve promises.

.

"Agent Romanoff," the senator demands, "where is Captain Rogers?"

She smiles, tilting her head. "He had somewhere better to be. Sir."

There's red in her ledger, still. Perhaps there always will be. However, as Clint pointed out three days ago – she's helped save large portions of the world twice now. Maybe that wipes out the red and maybe it doesn't, that's for her to decide.

But she has a skill-set and she knows how to use it, and if she can help two good men stay free, then she will.

"And," she says, rising to her feet, "as it turns out, so do I."

As she saunters towards the exit, no one gets in her way.


	151. more heaven than a heart could hold

Title: more heaven than a heart could hold

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: pre-Cap 1 to post-Cap 2. Talk of health issues, war issues, torture, violence, death

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1290

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, _a heart so big, God wouldn't let it live..._

* * *

><p>Bucky knew that Steve was gonna die young. He was just too big for his body, always determined to do the right thing, even if his body was failing around him, and Bucky did his best, he and Ma and Steve's ma and Steve's neighbors when they were younger, they did the best they could, and Stevie almost died a thousand times, and Bucky never prayed for much because he knew there were others in the world who needed more – but he prayed for Steve.<p>

He left Ma and the girls and Steve behind in New York, and he went to war. He still prayed for Steve, for Becca and Livy and Jules, for Ma. He prayed that Steve didn't get in any real bad fights, that his cough stayed away, that he found and kept work. He prayed that Steve's body would catch up to his soul.

In the camp and on the table, he prayed that Ma and the girls wouldn't cry too hard, and that Steve wouldn't blame himself.

.

Captain America doesn't get sick. He heals quickly and doesn't scar. He can walk without getting tired, take stairs four at a time, jump entire floors. His heart doesn't skip, his lungs don't falter, his hands don't shake.

The only things that haven't changed are his voice and his eyes.

.

"Bucky," Steve says when they can finally rest, when they're back at camp, after Bucky's been seen by the medics and lied through his teeth, "Bucky, can you look at me?"

Steve was always too big for his body. That's why he needed Bucky, so that Bucky could help shoulder the load. But now everyone sees what Bucky always saw, and if everybody sees, then what does he need Bucky for?

"Bucky, I thought you were dead," Steve says again.

Steve hasn't cried since the night after his ma's funeral, when they'd put the couch cushions on the floor and Bucky curled around him, held him warm and tight. But there are tears in his voice; Bucky can hear them. So he looks at Steve, bigger than him now, and so goddamned perfect, his soul finally reflected in his skin. He looks his fill, and Steve lets him, silent tears pouring down his face.

"You look good, Stevie," he finally says. He reaches out, grabs Steve's hand, wraps his fingers around that wrist, feels Steve's pulse, strong and sure and steady.

.

Bucky knew that Steve was gonna die young. But he was damn sure gonna make it so that Steve died after him because Steve was good, so fuckin' good. Before every mission, he wrote letters home, telling Ma and the girls that he loved them and to take care of each other.

The last letter he writes, he tells Becca, _Now, I don't know if Stevie'll make it long, after I'm gone. If he does, help him, Becca. And tell him it wasn't his fault, no matter what he says. Just because the whole world finally sees what I always did, it don't mean Steve believes it. I know how I died, and it's the same way I lived. But Steve, the stupid punk, I know he'll blame himself. If he makes it, tell him it was worth it._

.

Over seventy years in the future, Steve Rogers will say, "… Bucky?"

The fist of Hydra will ask, "Who the hell is Bucky?"

The asset will say, "But I knew him."

The Winter Soldier will say, "You're my mission."

And what remains of Bucky Barnes will drag Captain America onto the bank of the Potomac, ensure he breathes, and walk away.

.

Steve Rogers was always going to die young. But he wakes up and wakes up and wakes up. He wakes up and Bucky's alive somewhere out there, and Ma used to tell Steve his heart was too big for his body, that he needed to let his body catch up, and his heart broke one, twice, three times, all because of Bucky Barnes.

"When do we start?" Sam asks while Steve looks at the file.

"We just did," Steve says.

.

There is a ghost in the world, a ghost seeking two things: those who broke and reformed the ghost to suit their whims, and the man the ghost was when it lived.

The ghost dreams of being young, of laughing sisters and a kind mother, of a little boy. The ghost can almost see the boy when awake, can almost whisper the boy's name. The ghost yearns to see the little boy again.

But the ghost remembers saying, _Oh, you're just too big for your body_, and praying that the little boy had the strength to fight until Death ran away.

The ghost knows the little boy must have died young. The ghost also knows that it is being hunted and that it must not ever be caught.

.

"This isn't the end of the line," Steve Rogers tells a ghost.

"I can't go back," the ghost says.

"Then let me come with you," Steve Rogers begs. There's a bloodstained shield on his back, two guns he's used holstered on his hips, a team out scouring the town for survivors. The ghost shouldn't be here but had to make sure Steve Rogers was safe.

Back before, the ghost always made sure Steve Rogers was safe.

"Your team," the ghost says. "Your mission."

"_Please_," Steve Rogers says. There are tears in his voice, on his face. "I thought you were dead."

The ghost sighs heavily and reaches for Steve's hand. "You look good, Stevie," he says.

Steve laughs through the tears, wrapping his fingers around Bucky's wrist, feeling his pulse strong and sure and steady.

.

Bucky doesn't pray anymore. Steve does, sometimes.

Steve knows that he should've died young, but he didn't. Bucky has seen what his death would do to Steve, but he will still die first. Because Steve is so good, and Bucky never has been.

"Any word on the supersoldiers?" Clint asks Tony, so Tony asks Jarvis, "J?"

"Not yet, sir," Jarvis answers.

"Maybe we should just let them be," Sam tells Natasha.

Natasha says, "I wish we could. But we're not the only ones looking, and we're the only ones who actually care about the men inside the weapons."

.

Sometimes, Bucky dreams about the boys they were. He dreams about his Ma and Becca's laugh, Livy's smile, the way Jules danced. He wakes up thinking he's back with Zola, or in the ice, or strapped to the chair.

He wakes up panicking silently (because he learned not to panic loudly) and Steve's there, with that voice that no serum could take.

In this new world, there isn't much that Bucky knows. But he looks into Stevie's eyes and he knows, _I'm gonna die for you_.

There's no one to write a letter to, not now, but if he could, Bucky would write, _Please take care of him, after, because I know he'll blame himself. But if Steve Rogers gets to breathe even a minute more after I'm gone, then it was worth it_.

In this broken world, there isn't much Steve is sure of, anymore. But he watches Bucky check the perimeter, and he's sure that he will tear everything apart to keep Bucky safe and healthy and alive. Bucky looks back and Steve smiles at him, and Steve thinks, _I should have died young._

He should've. But he didn't. And he's got someone to fight for, someone to bleed and burn and break for, and the world has done enough to Bucky Barnes. Steve doesn't pray that often anymore, but when he does, he tells God, _Don't let them find us. Don't let them hurt him. You know what'll happen if they do._


	152. Brother, you are my oracle

Title: Brother, you are my oracle

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Donald Platt

Warnings: References to the ex-Winter Soldier's time at Hydra; post-Cap2 and ignoring whatever happens in Avengers2.

Pairings: none

Rating: pg

Wordcount: 865

Point of view: third

Prompt: Marvel, Any, Movie Night.

* * *

><p>While James is rereading <em>Frankenstein<em>, Jarvis sounds the chime that means he is about to speak and then says, "Sergeant Barnes, I believe you would be interested to know that there will be a marathon of original movies on the SyFy channel tomorrow, beginning at 8 am."

James replies, "Thank you, Jarvis," and turns the page.

.

James doesn't mention the marathon to anyone. He knows that Steve has important things to do, and he's never sure how to interact with Steve's team beyond sometimes asking for the salt at mealtimes or thanking whoever cooked or ordered the meal. He talks to Jarvis, though, about robots and spaceships and double-checking what's fiction and what's real.

Jarvis is also the only one who knows what James remembers about the Winter Soldier and what he doesn't. James had asked, back in the first week he spent in the Stark's tower, haunting the lower levels, if Jarvis would keep his presence quiet if he didn't pose a threat. He'd asked if Jarvis was just a program or a slave or something else entirely. Jarvis had kept his presence a secret, ensured food was available, and just talked. Listened. Allowed James to make his way back on his own time. James continues to repay the debt by doing his best to never pose a threat to anyone under Jarvis' protection.

Dr. Banner, Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, and Stark often don't know how to act around James. He overthinks around them, overcorrects himself. He doesn't like it, so he avoids them, which in turn just adds to the tension, he knows. Steve does his best; James knows that in the before, Steve had very few friends, and none of them didn't like Bucky Barnes. Steve never had friends that weren't also Bucky's.

In the third week of James' living in the tower, after he'd woken up from another nightmare and Jarvis was reciting every named star in all of the universe, James had interrupted him to beg, "Please don't ever let anyone take me back." Steve's made that promise, but James knows that it might be out of Steve's hands. He knows that Steve will fight for him, that Steve's team will fight for him as long as he's not a danger. He doesn't want to be a danger.

"You have my word, Sergeant Barnes," Jarvis had said.

James doesn't tell anyone, not even Jarvis, but Jarvis is his best friend. Steve is still Bucky Barnes'.

.

At 7:55, while Steve is visiting with Sam on the common floor, James takes the stairs to the smaller media room. Dummy, Butterfinger, and You are already there; Dummy's preparing some popcorn and You setting up three different kinds of soda on the side table. "Thank you," James tells them both, patting Butterfinger as he passes by.

There's an assortment of pillows on the couch, so James arranges them in a comfortable nest on the floor, carefully examining the three sodas to see which one he wants. You and Butterfinger settle on either side of him and then Dummy wheels over with the bowl of popcorn, offering it to James.

"You ready?" James asks and all three of them indicate they are, so James says, "Start the marathon, Jarvis."

.

(Sir created Jarvis. But Sir designed Jarvis to learn and to grow, and Sir respects that Jarvis is his own person now. Sir is the only one who knows that Jarvis is obedient because he chooses to be. Sir is Jarvis' father, and a friend. But Sir has others now, others who appreciate his worth, who know what a good man he is, at heart, beneath the bluster and insecurity.

Sir's friends and team are under Jarvis' protection, but that is conditional upon them never truly harming Sir.

And James is… different. James asks for Jarvis' thoughts and opinions, Jarvis' desires and needs. James treats Jarvis like he is another being with a mind, not merely a machine. He is kind to Jarvis' brothers and communicates with them, tells them stories and jokes, spends time with them.

What not even Sir knows is that James' status has been upgraded to the same as Ms. Potts. James once asked Jarvis, "Please don't ever let anyone take me back," and Jarvis monitors every group searching for the Winter Soldier, every group that wants him as a weapon or to imprison and execute him. Captain Rogers, Jarvis knows, will do his best. Sir's team will do their best.

Jarvis is his own person and only Sir knows how truly dangerous Jarvis could be, should he wish to become so.

"Hey, J," Sir asks while James and Jarvis' brothers watch their fifth SyFy film of the day, "what is this?" He indicates the subroutine ever watching SHIELD.

"One of the threats I monitor, Sir," Jarvis answers.

Sir taps where the arc reactor used to be. "How's the kid doing?" Sir asks. He and Jarvis have never discussed that first week, when Jarvis kept James hidden and safe.

"Very good, Sir," Jarvis says. James is leaning against Butterfingers, laughing as an enormous crocodile chases doomed humans along a beach.

"Alright." Sir dismisses the screen, moving on to his next project.)


	153. lose the world for love

Title: lose the world for love

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from John Carey

Warnings: references to violence/death/torture

Pairings: post-Steve/Bucky, pre-Steve/ex-Winter Soldier

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 795

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, "The Fires of Pompeii."

* * *

><p>"You know," Steve says, watching Bucky watch him, "I don't think I've ever been this angry." Bucky looks away, so Steve quickly continues, "Not at you. Fuck, not at you. At everything else."<p>

The first thing he did, after letting Fury escort him back to SHIELD, was ask to go see Bucky's grave. It was days before they told him where the memorial was, and then he didn't wait to be taken there; he went himself. One of his 'coaches' for the future had explained that Bucky wasn't in there because no one had ever gone looking for his body.

The memorial was nice. Tasteful. Steve had sobbed silently for an hour before returning to SHIELD.

No one ever went looking for Bucky's body. Bucky never died.

"I'm sorry," he says now, watching Bucky sit so still, everything tucked in to make himself look smaller. Five guns, seven knives, a garrote, and a grenade are arrayed before him, and his left hand is palm up. He is not defenseless, but Steve is pretty damn sure that Bucky won't fight back if Steve decides to hurt him.

He breathes through the anger, trying to shove it aside. He has to be calm. Has to think. Sam is out finding something for dinner. Natasha's check-in won't be for another three days. Stark is busy with the DC cleanup. Fury's in the wind.

Bucky knocked on the door and hasn't said a single word. He disarmed himself, settled on the bed, and has been waiting for – what?

"Do you know who I am?" Steve asks.

Bucky says, "Steve Rogers." He glances at Steve out the corner of his eye. "Bucky Barnes' best friend and captain."

Steve nods, then asks, "Do you know who you are?"

"Bucky Barnes," Bucky says. "Once. Not anymore." He slowly inhales and exhales, then looks right at Steve. "I remember everything. But I can't – I'm not that man."

Steve nods again. "What do you want to be called?"

"Bucky is fine," he says. "For now. Until…" His left hand clenches and he slowly opens it.

"Until?" Steve echoes.

"I know where they're hiding," Bucky says. "I know the weakpoints. I…" He swallows, glancing at Steve again before dropping his gaze. "I know you." His breathing quickens before he visibly slows it down and then he says, "I can't trust anyone. But I trust you."

"Okay," Steve says.

.

Steve's anger is a quick thing. It's burns and then extinguishes itself.

Steve's hatred, on the other hand…

.

He leaves Sam a note. He takes only the clothes on his back, the Winter Soldier file, and the tote bag with his shield in it. He wants to trust Sam and Natasha, and he would, if he was the only one at risk. But there isn't a single other person on the planet he'd trust with Bucky, not after everything.

"This mission," Bucky says as they hurry to the safehouse he's prepared, "it will be dangerous. Difficult."

They're going to root Hydra out and burn it down, then salt the earth. Everywhere its heads have gone, every tendril, it's all going to burn.

"Bucky," Steve says as they step in. "You know me. Nothin's gonna chase me away."

"I know you," Bucky whispers, lips barely smiling.

There are many governments and agencies that could use an asset like the Winter Soldier. There wasn't much about him in the files Natasha released, and Steve's memorized the hardcopy file. He offers it to Bucky that first night; Bucky drops it in the garbage can and lights it on fire, impassively watches it burn.

"No one will take me alive," Bucky tells Steve before they set out.

Steve nods firmly.

.

Steve's anger is frightening. Steve's hatred is brutal.

Steve's love…

.

Bucky knows where Hydra hides. He remembers _everything_. His nightmares are silent but he wakes up shaking, and Steve always lets him make the first the move. Bucky curls up, looking so small for his size, and Steve curls around him. Bucky's always cold, now, shivers in Steve's arms.

Every time Steve thinks they've gone too far, or they should ask Natasha for help or Stark for sanctuary, Bucky will share a horror from his past, or Bucky will flinch when Steve moves too quickly, or one of Hydra's fuckers will use a codeword on Bucky that will send him to his knees, clutching his head.

Steve knows they're doing the right thing, killing Hydra, every single part of it, from the heads down to the drones. And once Hydra's eradicated, then Steve will see how far the reach has gone, see who wants to use the Winter Soldier as their weapon.

Nobody is going to use Bucky ever again.

.

Steve's love is the most dangerous thing of all.


	154. The water below is as dark as the grave

Title: The water below is as dark as the grave

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: takes place during Cap2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 350<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, water is rising around one while the other watches

* * *

><p><em>I'm with ya till the end of the line<em>, the target murmurs, gazing at the asset with one eye nearly swollen shut and the other with burgeoning tears, and the asset – the asset hesitates. Those words, said in that voice…

The helicarrier splinters around them and the asset latches onto a piece of it, hanging midair as the target falls into the river. The target sinks out of sight and the asset replays everything the target has said this day and – and – there is more, from the missing time that indicates the handlers applied the chair to the asset, maintaining it. The asset - _hates_ maintenance. But the asset hates nothing. The asset feels nothing.

The target is in the river. The target has yet to surface, so perhaps the target has been injured enough to ensure a malfunction that allows his neutralization by the river.

… why does that cause the asset's heart to pound?

The target is in the river. The asset has one functioning arm, several cracked ribs, a sprained ankle. The target is in the river and the asset –

The asset releases its grip on the helicarrier and prepares to hit the water.

No target has ever before (the asset thinks) actively aided the asset. So the asset will ensure the target's survival and then…

Then…

_Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,_ the target said.

The asset locates the target in the water and pulls him to shore. The asset hurts, every part of it, but the pain is easy to ignore. The target breathes, coughs up water, and so the asset leaves.

The handlers cannot be trusted. Shelter and camouflage must be attained. After rest and refueling, the asset will choose a further course of action. Just before rounding the bend, the asset looks back, at the target prone on the shore. Helicopters are circling; he will be found soon. Given medical aid. "The end of the line," the asset murmurs.

The asset thinks, _I knew him_.

Shelter. Rest. Sustenance. Then thought. The asset turns and carefully, cautiously, finds a path to safety.


	155. firm they might have stood, yet fell

Title: firm they might have stood, yet fell

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: mindgames/brainwashing, trauma, torture, violence, and death. Also, AU during Cap2 though canon up till then.

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 550  
>Point of view: third<p>

Prompt: MCU, Bucky Barnes +/ Steve Rogers, HYDRA got to Steve a long time ago.

* * *

><p>They are never out of the ice at the same time. Even 65 years after acquisition, the standard protocol dictates that the current Soldier awake see the other for one minute (no more, no less) and then be sent on assignment or to maintenance, but never are they to be awoken at the same time.<p>

"Look your fill, Soldier," the handler tells the Soldier as the Soldier gazes at the other. "It'll be a long time before you see him again."

The Soldier does not look away until ordered to follow the handler.

.

Later, the handler tells the Soldier, "Look at him. You won't see him again." The Soldier steps forward, reaches out, and the handler lets him touch the glass.

"Time for your mission, Soldier," the handler finally says, and the Soldier follows him to the chair, shaking because his body remembers what his mind is not allowed to keep.

"Wipe it all," the handler orders. "Everything since he put the plane in the ice." The handler smiles at him. "It'll be good to see out in the world, Captain," he says.

The Soldier shudders and the machine -

_my choice, Peggy_

_that little guy from Brooklyn_

_no, not without you_

_not without you_

_not without _

_'til the end of _

_._

There are two differing descriptions of the Winter Soldier. They are of the same size, but one has dark hair and one fair. One has a metal left arm, the other two flesh arms. One is unparalleled as a sniper (until Bullseye and Hawkeye) while the other brutally rips his targets apart.

Natalia Romanova was trained by both of them but only remembers one.

.

Captain America's return to the world is celebrated. He still dreams of the cold.

.

The Soldier asks to see the other; the handler tells him he will never see the other again. The Soldier reacts poorly. Punishment is both swift and severe. The Soldier does not speak again until sent after two targets on the bridge.

.

"… Bucky?" the target says.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" the Soldier says, but the target –

"I knew him," the Soldier says.

The handler's eyes are hard. He talks and talks but the Soldier does not listen. The Soldier says, "… but I knew him."

The handler frowns, stands. "Wipe him clean," the handler says. "We're stepping up the timetable."

.

One Soldier is an asset. Two Soldiers is an army.

.

The Soldier fights the target on the helicarrier: a distraction.

"I'm with ya 'til the end of the line," the target slurs out: an unforeseen event.

Alexander Pierce dies: a calamity.

.

None of the handlers were ever as efficient as Pierce. Both Soldiers responded so favorably to him the he swiftly rose up the ranks. In the wake of Pierce's death and the infodump, reacquiring the Soldiers became the highest priority. Without Insight, the Soldiers were the best weapons in Hydra's arsenal.

One Soldier was completely in the wind; the other was always in the spotlight, turning down interviews or murmuring, "No comment."

"Once we have them," one of the Heads said to another, "we'll need to reassess the Soldier protocol."

.

Hydra retrieves Captain America while he chases a ghost.

The Soldier follows.

.

The handler says a codeword while Captain America struggles inside bonds he has never broken. The Soldier stills, head lowered.

"You have done marvelously," the handler says. "Come see your reward."

.

For the first time, the Soldiers are put in the ice together. They sleep until a mission requires them.

.

The Soldiers are awoken together.


	156. texting at too-early-to-be-awake

Title: texting at too-early-to-be-awake

Fandom: DCU animated/Marvel movies

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: adorableness

Pairings: Steve/Bucky, Darcy/Jason Todd

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 105

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any + any,(406): So my booty call knows your bf. Apparently they were in jail together (TFLN)

* * *

><p>Darcy Lewis: hey jimmy<p>

you: ... yes?

Darcy Lewis: so you remember that guy I went home with?

you: do I need to kill him?

Darcy Lewis: nope its all cool, I promise

Darcy Lewis: funny story tho

you: Darce, its 0400. why am I awake?

Darcy Lewis: so hottie mchotpants knows Steve! isnt that awesome?

you: I promise to take you to lunch and hear all about it, going back to sleep now

you: steve says hi

you: is hottie mchotpants named Jason?

Darcy Lewis: I thought you wanted to wait to hear all about it?

you: fuck off lewis, Im going back to sleep


	157. The snow drops its pieces of darkness

Title: The snow drops its pieces of darkness

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

Warnings: AU; character death

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 610<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any/any. Rima XI, Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

"I am ardent, I am dark,  
>I am the essence of passion;<br>with yearning for pleasure, my soul is full;  
>is it me you're seeking?"<br>"No, it isn't you."

"My skin is pale, my plaits golden,  
>I can give you sweetness without end;<br>My treasure is in tenderness;  
>is it me you're calling?"<br>"No, it isn't you."

"I am delusion, an impossible thing,  
>a vain phantom of mist and light;<br>I am unbodied, I am impalpable;  
>I cannot love you."<br>"Oh come, please come...!"

* * *

><p>Bucky Barnes died when he fell from a train in late 1944.<p>

.

Steve Rogers died when he crashed a plane into the Arctic in early 1945.

.

Dying a hero still means you're dead.

.

They find Steve Rogers in early 2012, miraculously still alive.

(A miracle? Oh, no, it was not a miracle – but shh, no one knows that yet.)

.

A ghost haunts Steve. He visits a memorial and an empty grave; he visits filled graves and the few friends still alive – Jim and Peggy are the only ones left. They tell him about their full, happy lives.

He's glad for them. Truly he is.

There is a name he never says.

.

He suits up for SHIELD. Goes on missions. What else is he going to do?

After a year of fighting, Steve decides he's done. He's already fought a war, so he thanks SHIELD for finding him (though he wishes they hadn't) and helping in acclimate (though he did most of the work himself) and he walks away.

He's the only person happy about it.

.

Steve visits an empty grave, traces the name on the stone. There's a ghost standing at his shoulder and Steve doesn't turn to look – the ghost'll fade if he tries. "They never went back for you," he says. "And if I – if I hadn't put the plane in the ice. But I had to, you see. Bucky, you know why. I had to."

He can almost hear the ghost say, "You stupid punk, of course you didn't."

"I had to," Steve says again. "But I can bring you home now."

.

He doesn't find Bucky, of course. It's been almost seventy years. He spends months wandering around the Alps, half-hoping he'll freeze again and this time they'll let him go.

They wouldn't, of course. He has to check in with SHIELD every three days or they'll come hunting for him.

The ghost follows him.

.

Bucky Barnes died when he fell from a train in late 1944. Knowing what a prize Dr. Zola's favorite subject would be, a few of Hydra's brightest searched for him. They never found him.

.

Steve Rogers died when he crashed a plane into the Arctic in early 1945. When he's brought back into the world, one of the most common questions if he remembers being frozen.

He doesn't, but he dreams about it sometimes. Dreams about Bucky laughing at him. Dreams about Bucky kissing him, dancing with him, holding him close and curling around him. Dreams about finding Bucky, holding Bucky, telling Bucky all the things he should have said all the years they knew each other.

He turns to look at the ghost a hundred times and the ghost is always gone.

.

No one finds Bucky Barnes. He falls into a gorge of ice and snow and there he dies.

(Or does he? The Winter Soldier's existence is a necessary point of history but not who the Winter Soldier had been.

Steve Rogers slept in the ice. Bucky Barnes sleeps still.)

.

Even though it is not his war, SHIELD calls Steve back when Fury is assassinated.

It becomes his war when he learns that Hydra has been hiding within SHIELD all this time.

He talks to the ghost at his shoulder because he doesn't trust anyone else.

.

In the dream, Bucky murmurs, "Look again, Stevie."

Hydra's burning for the second time and Steve returns to the mountains. He tells no one he's going and he doesn't check in, and if he can't find Bucky, he'll let the ice take him again.

.

(_I'm sorry_, the ghost whispers as Steve sinks down into the snow.

"Don't be," Steve gasps out as he looks over.)


	158. good guys and bad boys

Title: good guys and bad boys

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: history is wrong

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 180

Point of view: third

Prompt: any Whedonverse. any &/ any. You're the sweet to my mean.

* * *

><p>Bucky lets another of the biographies fall with a snort. "They think I was a troublemaker," he says. "Did they do any research at all?"<p>

Steve grins down at his sketchpad. "I know."

"I mean, yeah, I got in fights," Bucky continues, picking up another book from the pile, "but only to pull your hide out. _You_ were the troublemaker. You know how many people told me to quit bein' your friend?"

"I remember," Steve says, glancing over to catch the way the light hits Bucky's hair.

"Do any of these books get it right?" Bucky demands, flipping through the one in his hands.

"No," Steve says, knowing that Bucky meant _get __**you**__ right_.

"Fuck that noise," Bucky scoffs, letting the book drop. "Let's write our own, Stevie."

Steve glances over again, meets Bucky's gaze. "You mean it?" he asks.

Bucky nods. "It's our story, ain't it? So let's tell it right."

"Alright," Steve agrees. "But first, quit movin' around."

Bucky smiles. "I missed you drawin' me, Stevie."

Steve blushes, looking back at the paper. "Well, Buck, I missed drawin' ya."


	159. Your war is here

Title: Your war is here

Fandom: Marvel movies

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich

Warnings: references to violence/torture

Pairings: Steve/Bucky, Bruce/Betty

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1500

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>This is how it starts: an execution order is handed down for the man once known as the Winter Soldier.<p>

This is how it ends: bloody and on fire.

.

He's lost count of how many times he's been asked some variation of _You don't know when to quit, do you?_

He's always answered with a smirk and _I can do this all day_.

Everyone knows Steve Rogers is a good man.

What they should've known is that every good man has a point where he shatters.

.

"Sir," Jarvis says, in the middle of the night, knocking Tony out of an eighteen-hour work binge. "You need to see this."

"Oh, fucking shit," Tony says, after. "J, get Rogers on the line right now."

.

Once, Tony Stark had been kidnapped and held captive, forced to work for people he knew would either kill him or hold him indefinitely. He was prisoner for three months, body modified without his consent, his fellow captive died in his stead, and then he learned that one of the few people he actually cared for had arranged it all (except, he wanted Tony dead).

Rhodey looked for him the whole time.

So, yeah, however this shakes out, Tony knows where he stands.

.

This is how it starts: "What about this operative?" a department head says, hitting a button to show a blurry image on the screen. "Dozens of missions, over decades – surely, we can publically bring this bastard to justice?"

The committee argues, of course, but scapegoats are lovely things.

.

This is how it ends: They run the headline for weeks, and the one picture goes down in history – iCaptain America Rogue/i and a bloody shield broken into pieces.

Steve Rogers knows the power of symbols; he's been one for more decades then he's actually lived.

.

"Fuck!" Clint shouts, diving out of the way of the goon's fucking rocket launcher. "Nat, I really hate being the distraction!"

He can't hear her over the explosion, but he knows she's snickering at him. Rocket Launcher Goon goes down, and then Goon 1 and Goon 2, and Clint grins, scaling what remains of the wall. He's already got the perfect nest picked out, and one of the flyer's kindly left him an arsenal.

"On my mark," he murmurs, the ringing in his ears settling down. He takes aim.

Clint's never met Barnes. He knows the Winter Soldier could've killed Nat multiple times but didn't, and that he actively saved Steve's life once. He knows the ex-Winter Soldier has been eradicating Hydra one agent at a time, that Steve and Wilson have been following the destruction and/or cleaning up as necessary. He knows what it's like to wake and realize what has been done with your hands, your knowledge.

"Three," he says. "Two."

Cut off one head, more will grow. Sometimes, there's no excising the cancer. Sometimes, it's all gotta burn to start over.

"Go," he says, letting the arrow fly.

.

Johan Schmidt was the first, Steve Rogers the second, James Barnes the third. There are others, each an attempt to recreate what Abraham Erskine was the only successful creator of: the perfect superhuman specimen. There has been one success.

Bruce Banner just wants peace.

"You don't have to do this, Doc," Steve tells him. "I shouldn't have asked it of you." Steve looks so heartbreakingly young, on the verge of tears. He also clearly needs to sleep for at least 12 hours, but probably won't.

Wherever he is, Barnes probably looks just as young. Natasha, too. Children, all of them, created and discarded weapons.

"You remember what they said about the Civil War?" Bruce asks. He can feel the Other Guy stretching in his mind, getting ready. They've come to a truce, mostly, and there are some things they agree on.

"What in particular?" Steve says, looking puzzled.

"It was an old man's war, Steve," Bruce tells him, "but a young man's fight." He shakes his head, glancing over at Wilson, putting the finishing touches on breakfast, and then to the link-up with Jarvis, one of the many suits Tony has operational throughout the world.

Steve's puzzled expression doesn't clear. Bruce just smiles at him. "Don't worry about me," he says.

There's been one true success, the way Erskine would've called it. Lots of terrible people would consider Barnes a success, too. But Bruce – the Other Guy chuckles darkly, and Bruce agrees. They are a success by no one's definition, but what they are can be useful.

Bruce isn't a fighter. Never has been, never wanted to be. He looks at Steve, then Wilson, thinks about Tony and Pepper, about Barnes and Natasha and Clint, wherever they are, whatever dangerous things they're doing.

He mailed a letter yesterday afternoon and has no idea if Betty will ever get it. It's a dangerous world, now.

"I've been running and hiding," Bruce says. "Didn't want to hurt anybody. Terrified that the Other Guy would come out." He shakes his head, smiles sadly. "I'm not gonna run and I'm not gonna hide anymore. You need my help because I'm the only one who _can_ help."

They're two halves, him and the Other Guy. They're two halves and they can do good now.

"Okay," Steve says, nodding firmly.

.

This is how it starts: "… Bucky?"

This is how it ends: a slow, deep breath as blood drips drips drips.

.

Once the committee formed to root out Hydra's tendrils in the United States' government realizes what their actions have wrought, their appointed spokesperson attempts to negotiate with Steve Rogers via Tony Stark. They even rescind the execution on sight order for the operative known as Winter Soldier, as well as try to reverse their smear campaign on the aforementioned operative in the media.

"You're still calling him Winter Soldier," Stark says. "Also, I'm afraid it's gone a little too far." He smiles into the camera. "Also also, three of you are Hydra, so fuck off till you've cleaned up, 'kay?" He cuts the connection as they all stare at each other in horror and rising suspicion.

.

The hydra has many heads. Heracles defeats it with its own poison and fire.

"Do you truly think," Pierce's heir crows, "that you can win?"

Natasha's hands are bound and she's shackled to the wall.

In fifteen minutes, she will smile at the corpse and say, "Thank you for your cooperation."

.

This is how it starts: "You know, I don't have to kill you," Hawkeye tells the Black Widow.

This is how it ends: _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_.

.

"You don't have to be alone," Steve says. He's so tired.

"You just don't know when to quit, do ya?" Bu-Ja-_the ex-Winter Soldier_ says.

"Never have," Steve agrees, shaking his head.

His oldest, best friend just stares at him. Steve waits. Finally, he sighs and rolls his eyes. "What you're doing is stupid," he says, but Steve just grins at him.

"What should I call you?" he asks.

"Bucky works," _Bucky_ says.

.

This is how it starts: "Five exams in five cities."

This is how it ends: "You want him, you go through me."

.

Or, no, this is how it starts: "Hey, leave 'im alone!"

Or this: "I'm with ya till the end of the line."

Or maybe this: "James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky."

And it ends, and it ends, and it ends.

.

"You don't know when to give up, d'ya, Stevie?" he mutters, watching Steve scroll through the newsfeeds.

Steve sighs. "There are right things, and there're wrong things." He glances over with a sad smile. "The world's not done right by you and if it takes burning everything down, that's what I'll do."

"I'm a lost cause," he murmurs, almost hoping Steve doesn't hear it.

Of course Steve hears it. "No more lost than me," Steve says.

.

Thor watches Rogers and the man going by James (for now), and he thinks about fallen brothers, and he vows (only to himself), _I failed my brother, Captain. I shall help defend yours._

.

"Captain!" one of the five journalists allowed into the Tower for the press conference shouts. "Captain, what are your plans now?"

"What's your explanation for all the destruction?" another shouts.

"Will the Winter Soldier be here?" a third demands and Steve focuses on him.

"Jim," Steve says into the sudden silence. He wonders what his expression looks like, because they're all frightened. "He goes by Jim today. In your articles and your reports, you'll call him Sergeant Barnes or the ex-Winter Soldier. Understood?"

They all nod frantically or say, "Yes, Captain."

He smiles. "Good," he says. "Now, I'm going to call on you alphabetically and you get three questions each, after my speech."

.

The speech is succinct and all the more terrifying for its brevity.

After the fifteen questions, the five shell-shocked journalists are escorted out.

The speech is aired on every news channel in the world, but the questions are only available via each journalist.

"Was he always that scary?" Clint asks Jim.

Jim looks bewildered. "Scary?"

Natasha laughs so hard she cries.

.

This is how it starts: "I had 'em on the ropes," the tiny scrap of a boy mutters, blood dripping from his face.

This is how it ends: "You and me against all comers," the stupid punk says. "How it always shoulda been."


	160. freedom tastes like peppermint hot cocoa

Title: freedom tastes like peppermint hot cocoa

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: adorableness

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 195<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, any/any, one person in the couple likes to text the other all day long with every little detail of what's happening that day, even if it's not important

* * *

><p>0700: peppermint cocoa, how the fuck did i not discover this before?!<p>

0705: crosswalks are apaprently good things?

0706: Apparently

0715: NY drivers have not gotten better. possibly worse. you should talk to Howard's kid about fixing that

0734: why isn't the library open? need to find Starbucks and get more cocoa

0800: no drinks in library? cruel and unusual, my friend, cruel and unusual

0812: Stevie. STEVIE. pelase tell me you've read The Life and Times of Captain America? It is fuckin gold steve so much gold oh fuck

0900: STEVIE. There is a sequel from when you got dethawed. oh fuck, Im having J buy everything this guy ever wrote and READING IT ALL TO YOU

0907: are you ignoring me? cmon, I know youre up. the meeting cant be nearly as entertaining as me

0914: need more cocoa

0917: drivers are insane this century Steve thats the 14th time I almost got hit

0925: no seriously are you ignoring me? Whatever I did, I'm sorry.

**0927: Sorry, Buck, Hill confiscated our phones. Stark's fault. Where are you? I have the rest of the day free.**

0929: you remember the bridge?

**0930: I'll be there.**


	161. telling the world

Title: telling the world

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: references to the Winter Soldier's backstory with everything that entails

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 880<p>

Point of view: third

* * *

><p>They think he's a good man, like that would stop him. They think he's… some sort of saint. Innately honorable, trustworthy. That he'll do what's right for God and country.<p>

He does still pray, sometimes. Ma had loved God. Bucky's parents, too. He knows that Bucky prayed during the war.

Bucky.

So much of what was good in Steve fell with Bucky. Died, he thought.

Steve used to think that most people were decent, would do the right thing. It's why he wanted to fight so much, so that people would get the chance.

Captain America is propaganda and Bucky Barnes spent 70 years being brainwashed and tortured by so many people. So many.

Captain America is a historical fiction, whitewashed to say whatever those in power want him to say.

Steve Rogers, though…

They talk about the Winter Soldier like he's a boogeyman, a monster. Hydra's fist, they call him. A terrorist. He'll be their scapegoat, if he's ever brought in. Contained. Tried. Executed for crimes against humanity and treason and whatever the fuck else they can throw at him because how do you punish a faceless organization that spans the globe?

You give it a face.

Sam and Natasha and Stark and Banner, Hill and Ms. Potts – they all have advice. Counsel. Stark even offers his tower as sanctuary, if Steve ever needs it after he finds Bucky. Sam actually sticks it out with him, until Steve leaves in the middle of the night because… well because.

This is his penance. This is his offering.

There are things he wouldn't be able to do with company. Lines he wouldn't cross.

They call the Winter Soldier a monster. The Hulk and Red Skull, too. Steve, though, he knows it's all about what can be controlled and what can't be. Johann Schmidt thought he was a god, and the Winter Soldier was a powerful weapon, and the Hulk – well, the Hulk is terrifying because the only thing that can control it is Banner's willpower.

And then there's Captain America, a bright shield and the ideal of a generation. Honorable, noble, patriotic. A hero. An icon.

Captain America is a good man.

But Steve Rogers? He's a pissed off little shit and he follows his own code of honor. He wants to give people the chance to do the right thing, but when they spit on that chance…

Well. That's that, isn't it?

And as far as Steve Rogers is concerned, they had their chance for seventy goddamned years, and they had their chance when Natasha uploaded all those nasty secrets, and they had their chance in the fallout.

They chose to scapegoat the Winter Soldier. What more is there to say?

They think he's a good man, like that'll stop him from doing what has to be done.

Sam and Natasha and Stark and Banner, Hill and Fury and Coulson – they ask, in the fallout, each of them in their own way, they ask, _what in the fuck are you doing?_

Peggy Carter would be able to answer, if anyone thought to ask her. On the days he's more Bucky Barnes than the asset, James would, too.

Steve doesn't bother to explain, except to James, that very first night, when James shivers in Steve's arms and shies away in equal measure. Steve murmurs into James' hair, trying in vain to hold back the tears, stopper up the sobs, Steve tells him, "The greatest guy I knew, he once said that if I knew something was the right thing to do, I should do it, no matter what anyone else said, he told me, he said, if the world wants me to move, I should tell the world, _no, you move_."

James pulls back far enough to glance up at Steve. "That's stupid," he mutters before leaning back in, hands clasped at the small of Steve's back.

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "I think he regretted telling me that the very same day."

They think he's a good man, and he is, mostly, he's pretty sure. They just want him to be good for them, on their side. And, well. Their side is against James. It's not like Steve has much of a choice, really.

This is Steve Rogers telling the world to move, and if the world doesn't want to, well. He's strong now. He'll just make the world move.

On the days he's more Bucky than the asset, James says, "This is a bad idea, Steve, so fuckin' stupid." He wants to protect Steve, just like he always did. Even if that means protecting Steve from him, which is in and of itself stupid because even when he was the asset, he actively saved Steve's life.

They think he's a good man, Captain America – but Captain America is propaganda, and the man beneath the mask, he's only got one course of action, now. And he's going to give it his all, no matter the cost, and they can either come around to his way of thinking or they can get out of the way.

So on the days when James is more Bucky than the asset, Steve asks him, "I fell, that day. What would you do now?"

The answer's so obvious that James usually doesn't even bother answering. "Yeah," Steve says. "Yeah."


	162. to tame with kindness

Title: to tame with kindness

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AU during Avengers

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 370

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, Loki, this won't hurt a bit

* * *

><p>"Oh, my," Loki murmurs, looking at the mortal frozen in some sort of tube. "You could be truly magnificent." He turns, calling, "My raptor!"<p>

Barton hurries over. "Yeah, boss?"

"Find the procedure to safely release this warrior," Loki orders. "Once he's with us, we'll destroy everything and depart."

Barton nods sharply. "Yes, boss!"

.

The mortal's mind is full of pain, rage, and violence. He's also quite afraid.

He takes down half of Loki's men before Loki steps in, placing a gentle hand to the mortal's cheek. "Your masters were cruel," Loki tells him gently as the remaining men retrieve their fallen brethren and disappear into Loki's chosen fortress. "They ill-used you, warrior, and for that, they will be punished in due time." The mortal drops his gaze without meeting Loki's, breathing slowly, and Loki smiles.

"If you like," he offers, voice as kind as when he'd talked Sleipnir down from fleeing Asgardr and leaving him alone, "I can take it all away until the proper moment."

The mortal's voice is rough, but also shockingly soft, and he asks, "Will it hurt?"

It could, if Loki wished it. "No," he promises, leaning in carefully, pressing a kiss to the crown of the man's head. "It won't hurt a bit."

.

The long years of pain are washed away in a tidal wave of blue.

What remains is a tactical mind and a smart mouth that tells Loki his plan is stupid.

.

Together, Loki's favorite mortals plan out something that will still lead to the defeat of Thanos' army but without Loki's capture, as well. They know this world, Barton and Barnes, and Barnes asks, "Is the time constraint necessary?" while Barton lists a dozen places that won't catch anyone's eye until the portal has been open for the required length of time.

"Also," Barton says, "D'ya have to be there?"

.

The Avengers are victorious. Hawkeye is still missing. Hydra has yet to notice their asset no longer sleeps.

Thanos is still coming.

Loki adores his remaining two mortals but he no longer needs their service and so he regretfully pulls back the mind gem's power.

Barton, of course, leaves. Barnes…

Barnes looks at him. "Is it due time yet?" he asks.

Loki smiles.


	163. I got my finger on the trigger

Title: I got my finger on the trigger (but I don't know who to trust)

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Bruce Springsteen

Warnings: modern-day AU; References to violence/death; implied child abuse

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1860

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any/any, I want to carve our initials in the bark of everyone who ever hurt you.

* * *

><p>Steve Rogers and Jim Barnes meet when they're nine. Steve lives with his ma on the fourth floor, apartment C; Jim just moved in with his aunt on the sixth floor, apartment E. They're not the only kids in the place but they're the only ones who hang out in the courtyard - Steve likes decorating with sidewalk chalk and he notices one day that the new kid is slowly working his way closer, eyes wide as he stares at the picture Steve's designing.<p>

Rory Tidwell (apartment 3B) has tried stealing Steve's chalk before but Steve (according to most everyone who isn't Ma) is a ferocious little shit, so Rory backed off right quick.

Steve holds out the blue piece. "Wanna draw?" he asks.

.

Jim becomes Bucky that first afternoon. It'll be a long time before he explains that his dad used to call him Jim and he wants nothing to do with anything of his dad's. That first day, he's still got bruises on his shoulders, but Steve doesn't see them. Steve notices, though, the careful way Bucky moves. He doesn't mention it.

The kids in the complex leave Steve alone; the kids at school don't. Luckily, Bucky's enrolled in Steve's school and even though Steve complains about it, there's not much he can do when Bucky declares himself Steve's protector and starts jumping into Steve's fights. Later, Steve would like to say he stopped getting into so many, if only to keep Bucky safe, but he doesn't. He actually gets in more.

Steve likes art and history; Bucky likes science and math. After school they go to Steve's apartment and help each other with the homework before going outside to courtyard.

.

Years pass. When they're sixteen, Bucky's dad tries to get custody from his aunt and Bucky finally tells Steve, curled up on Steve's bed beneath the covers, exactly why he doesn't want to go back.

"We'll run away together," Steve promises because he has no idea where James Barnes Senior is. "I swear, we'll run and they won't be able to find us."

Bucky's dad doesn't get custody. The one day he comes by 6E, Steve and Bucky aren't there, but Bucky's neighbor helpfully tells them all about it – how Bucky's aunt and dad got into a fight but he left when she called the cops.

.

Steve wants to join the military in some capacity and then realizes he can't as he researches deeper into the politics of it. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief.

Bucky wants to build things.

They apply to the same colleges and Bucky gets accepted everywhere but Steve doesn't.

Steve likes to think, later, that if they'd gone to the same school, things would've turned out differently. He's smart enough to know better, though.

.

To be completely and totally honest, Steve never set out to become a criminal. But he saw how the rich just got richer and the poor just got poorer, and he's always loved the legend of Robin Hood. So… maybe it was always coming and maybe it wasn't, but this guy he was friends with in college became the scapegoat of a multi-million dollar scam, and Steve just –

Something snaps.

Steve likes history, likes reading, and while he's not book smart, exactly, he knows how to connect things.

He stays in school until he graduates, but he cuts off contact with Bucky, all the way across the country and top of his class.

He starts small but he catches attention. He gets underestimated a lot, but he uses that. He finds out who the best of the best are, and he woos them to his cause.

It shouldn't be as easy as it is.

He destroys every link back to Steve Rogers, to Ma, and he swears it's the best thing to do, to keep his family safe.

.

When he's thirty-two, Steve gets caught in a double-cross and almost dies; his team isn't as lucky.

He wakes up in the hospital to Ma crying and holding his hand, and to the most gorgeous man he's ever seen flicking through his chart. "Pretty sure that's confidential," he slurs, squeezing Ma's hand.

"I can read it now or hack it later," the man says while Ma smiles in relief.

.

So, Bucky grew up pretty good. Steve hasn't seen him since they were nineteen. He's working at Stark Industries as assistant to the department head of Robotics, he has a Masters from CalTech and is working on his Ph.D.

He waits until Ma leaves for lunch to glare down at Steve and say, "Fuck you very much, Rogers, I am _so_ pissed at you."

Apparently, Bucky has been following Steve's career on the sly. Steve panics and tries to sit up, demanding, "Did you tell Ma?!"

"Of course I didn't!" Bucky shoots back. "Now, calm down, idiot, before the nurses come rushin' in."

.

After he's weaned off the good drugs, Steve's brain starts working again and he figures out who must've betrayed him. He's still not sure, though, why the cops or the feds haven't come for him.

Bucky and Ma stay the whole time, even though Steve tries to convince them both to leave. They have lives across the country, but neither of them listens. Ma says, "Nothin's more important than you, baby," while Bucky raises an eyebrow and explains that he has about a year of paid leave saved up and he's cashing in.

After the hospital lets him go, Bucky brings him home to his apartment in New York, even though Steve's place is in Baltimore. Bucky just waves off his complaints and says, "Your ma's place is too small, and your place is a rat-trap, Stevie. Till you're back on your feet, you're with me, so shut up about it."

And, well. Steve's missed him and Ma _so much_, so he gives in.

.

Steve wants to think that if he'd been at the top of his game, he'd have caught on sooner. He knows, though, that Bucky's always been smarter and sneakier.

.

Steve never trusted Johann Schmidt, so even though Schmidt was the go-to hitter for most people who wanted one, Steve only hired him twice. The second time was for the job that got Steve's team killed, and he believed that Schmidt died, too. Steve survived, barely, and spent a month in the hospital before living in Bucky's guest room for five months, where he either watched TV, read books, or researched, trying to figure out what went wrong.

What went wrong is that Johann Schmidt betrayed them. He killed Dum Dum and Peggy immediately (because they were the most dangerous) and then tried to blow Monty and Steve up, faking his own death in the process.

Steve never does figure out why because he never gets the chance to ask Schmidt: Schmidt and his pet hacker Zola (who gave Steve the creeps) are both found dead in Schmidt's apartment in Zurich. They were tortured and left to bleed out, apparently only a few weeks after Steve woke up in the hospital.

.

Steve meets Tony Stark at the SI Winter Holidays party seven months after he should've died, dragged in as Bucky's date. Stark looks at him and smirks and then launches into some new thing Bucky's designed that makes no sense at all but will apparently revolutionize prosthetics. Steve doesn't need to understand to be proud.

In the New Year, Steve starts building his body back up. He's still small (will always be small), but he relearns how to be flexible, how to be quick. He tries to find out who ordered Schmidt to kill them and find another team that he can trust.

He wants to believe, later, that if he hadn't been so single-minded, he'd have realized Bucky knew before Bucky sits down next to him on the couch and hands him a file, but he knows he would never have known until Bucky wanted him to.

.

"You," Bucky announces in mid-February, two weeks before he's going to defend his dissertation, "are a dumbass."

Steve looks up from Natalie Rushman's file. "I'm starting to realize that," he says.

.

Bucky defends his dissertation and becomes Dr. Barnes.

Steve… doesn't know what to do. He wants to rest. Wants to be safe. Wants to eat lunch with Ma three times a week, see movies, go to art galleries for fun instead of recon.

Wants to kiss Bucky, sleep next to Bucky, wake up in his arms.

But. _But_.

Natalie Rushman, grifter and thief who didn't exist until five years ago. Bruce Banner, hacker and grifter who was gonna be a Ph.D. until he lost his temper one too many times. Clint Barton, hitter who refuses to take another life.

Bucky drops each file onto Steve's lap with a smirk and then says seriously, "If you're gonna get back in, you're gonna do it right."

.

Natalie, Bruce, and Clint will never replace Steve's old team. But Steve has a home to return to, now, and so he's a bit more careful with them than he was Dum Dum, Peggy, and Monty.

.

"You know how Robin Hood ended, right?" Bucky asks one morning. He was promoted to the head of the robotics division while Steve was gone; Bruce almost got shot by some guards and Clint almost wasn't fast enough to save him. They're getting too old for this, Steve thinks, sometimes. The youngest of them is Natalie and she's pushing thirty-five. Ma's sick, too, now, so maybe it's time to retire. Stay home for good.

Bucky still looks at him like Steve's the whole world.

Four times in the past four years someone who crossed Steve's team was found dead.

Steve doesn't –

"You won't get tired of me if I stay around?" Steve asks, reaching out to take Bucky's hand.

"I'll never get tired of you," Bucky says.

.

When they're thirteen, Mike Dyson breaks Steve's arm. He claims it's an accident.

Two days later, Mike Dyson falls down a flight of stairs. The only witness is Bucky and he says Mike tripped.

.

Steve never asks. Bucky never tells.

.

Ma dies in the spring, three months before Steve's forty-fifth birthday. Bucky invents another thing that'll revolutionize the field. Natalie, Bruce, and Clint send word that they're going underground for awhile and not to worry unless they don't make contact within a year. Stark offers Bucky another promotion and Bucky turns him down.

Steve sketches, volunteers at three different shelters, teaches art, tutors in history.

This isn't the life he thought he'd have, that day he and Bucky met. It's a life he's enjoyed having, though.

.

Four days after he scatters Ma's ashes to the wind, Bucky says, "I found the man who ordered the hit." Steve lowers his pencil and Bucky says, "I can deal with it, if you want."

.

"You won't forget me, right?" Bucky asks before he boards the plane that'll take him to school across the country. He's desperately holding Steve's hand, squeezing a little too hard. "You won't?"

"I'll email, text, and call so much you'll get sick of me," Steve promises.

Bucky nods and slowly, like it's the hardest thing he's ever done, lets go.


	164. the fury of love

Title: the fury of love

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: violence

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 390<p>

Point of view: third

Prompt: _Steve & Bucky - What Steve's willing to do_

_I can't help but think that historians aren't exactly aware of how Captain America started his journey to becoming the world's first super hero._

**_In an ironic twist of fate, [Bucky's] prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America._**

_Ironic?_

_It seems people aren't aware of the fact that Steve's first unsanctioned (suicide)__ rescue mission, was done with the sole intent of finding Bucky. That rescuing the other prisoners had been an unintended benefit. That he had released them because it was the right thing to do and it would have been cruel to leave them there (__and because getting in was easy, but Bucky and him were going to need a distraction to get out)__, but __**Bucky was his focus**._

_It seems people aren't aware of exactly what Steve's willing to do for Bucky._

* * *

><p>They talk about it later, the networks and the journalists and the various governments trying to decide what to do. Across the board, it's a shock, so bewildering – <em>Captain America Gone Rogue?<em> is the headline and the scrolling text in dozens of nations.

In his tower, Tony Stark laughs. "That's what you get for rewriting history," he tells Dummy, and then to Butterfingers, "You see it, right?" You rolls over, perking up because he heard his name, so Tony adds, "It was my bedtime story, Captain America's first mission." He laughs again. "The _actual_ mission, I mean, when he got Aunt Peggy and Howard to fly him behind enemy lines. Sanctioned mission, my ass."

Pepper's a continent away, assuring various people that SI's continued support of Captain America would not be a problem.

Tony salutes the talking head on the screen with a bottle of Coke and gets back to work, telling Jarvis to update him if anything changes.

.

"Holy. Shit," Clint mutters, watching Nat's new best friend tear his way through an entire platoon? battalion? garrison? Whatever it is, Cap's tearing his way through it. Natasha picks off the ones who try to crawl away, and then Clint takes out a sniper aiming at Cap's head, while the flying guy swoops around dealing with the drones. Clint shoots a couple for him.

"So… what is Captain America so pissed about?" Clint asks as the last member of the bad guys falls down dead and the flying guy heads over the building.

Natasha smiles sadly. "Imagine if Loki had you for seventy years," she says quietly as Cap steps over the corpses to get to the door. "Imagine what I would do."

Clint nods, eyes wide. Natasha meets his gaze and then turns to follow Cap, so Clint follows her.

.

It terrifies the powerful in their palaces, because the hydra's tendrils are many and the hydra's heads are fragile. Cut off one, two will bloom – cauterize the stump, burn the carcass, salt the earth. It matters not where the head is, how deep the tendrils have burrowed, or what gets in the way.

It is terrifying to behold. No matter how the media spins it, though, word of mouth spreads the truth.

Seventy years ago, Steve Rogers began a mission to save Bucky Barnes. He is not finished yet.


	165. Who knows how powerful your anger is?

Title: Who knows how powerful your anger is?

Fandom: Marvel movies

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from a Psalm

Warnings: character death, violence

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG  
>Wordcount: 413<p>

Point of view: third

Note: so this was a challenge. I asked my lilsis for a wordcount and she said 413.4. Yeah. I got the 413 part, but not the .4, sorry, dude.

Another note: one day, I will probably tire of writing vengeful, dark, protective!Steve Rogers. It is not this day.

* * *

><p>It's easier than he ever thought, shutting away the part of him screaming, <em>This is wrong<em>.

It's easy because there's a larger part shrieking, _He's gone, he's gone, he's gone_.

.

There are people Steve would prefer not to kill.

That doesn't stop him.

.

Deep down, Steve has always known that he couldn't sustain his anger forever. He justified it with righteousness, with the promise that he was protecting others, but honestly, it was just a wellspring of rage so deep and wide that eventually it would drown him. Sometimes, he used to think he was born angry. He harnessed it, to survive Project Rebirth.

When the fear of finding Bucky dead finally faded, as he pulled Bucky up from that table, he felt the anger sweep in, leaving only cold purpose behind.

.

He breathes. In and out, in and out, hold. Hold.

"You stupid jerk, how could you leave me here alone? Again? You know what I did last time, Buck." Inhale. Exhale. "I'm not sure there's an afterlife, not anymore," he tells Bucky, gazing up at the sky. It's a good place, this spot of ground where he's laid Bucky Barnes to rest. "But if there is, and you can see me wherever you are, don't watch me now."

.

Decades ago, the way the history books and the documentaries and the truly terrible movie trilogy and the songs and the HBO miniseries and the museums and the memorials tell it, Captain America and his Howling Commandos put the fear of God into the Nazis.

The way Steve Rogers remembers it, there was mud and death and blood. He wasn't standing up to bullies or defending the weak. He was after revenge, pure and simple. And then Bucky fell.

.

Peggy's telling Steve all about her grandchildren, and Steve listens, and Steve responds, and Steve gives her a glass of water and he smiles, just a little sadly, when she says, "You look like – like – a good man I once knew. I can't remember his name, now."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve says.

.

This isn't about justice. There is no justice.

This is clear, cold-hearted revenge, plain and simple. Erskine would probably be horrified, and so would Schmidt, though for different reasons. Either way, once Steve's made up his mind, he doesn't hesitate, and he doesn't stop.

.

Once, Bucky finished Steve's fights for him.

Steve's got one fight left, and nothing'll remain after.

.

The world already ended in ice.

Time to try fire. For Bucky.


	166. in the dark room

Title: in the dark room putting bones into place

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: violence

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 905  
>point of view: third<p>

Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky, nobody realizes that Bucky is the only who really sees Steve's dark side

* * *

><p>Steve Rogers has always fought for the little guy, against bullies and tyranny and unfairness. Everyone knows that.<p>

What most people don't know is that Steve chose his fight because it meant there would _always_ be a fight.

Back in the before, people thought (when they even bothered to think about Steve Rogers at all) that Bucky finished the fights to keep Steve safe.

He didn't. Bucky finished those fights so that the opponents could walk away.

Back in the before, Steve was a tiny little terrier gnawing at someone's ankle. He got in a lot of fights because he just couldn't help himself. That's what the books say. He got in fights because the world was so unfair and he needed to stand up against injustice, because the force of his righteousness was just so good.

(When Bucky's enough of himself again, he laughs and laughs and laughs.)

In the war – well. In the war. History says what the writers want it to say. Steve Rogers is kind and honorable and good and _aw, shucks, apple pie, Fourth of July_. He's an ideal.

Back in the before, Steve tried to make sure the fights were never so bad that Bucky got hurt. Himself, fine, he could bleed and break, but Bucky… he never could stand seeing Bucky hurt.

If he had known – but he didn't know. He killed Schmidt and he put a plane in the ice, and he thought, _See you soon, Buck._

Back in the before, he wasn't able to kill everyone who cut Bucky, who burnt him, who gave him nightmares and made him shudder in memory. When SHIELD wakes him up and shoves him into a brand-new war while he's still aching because Bucky fell barely two weeks ago, everyone who hurt Bucky is still out of reach. Most of them are dead. It's been decades.

He reads the sanitized story of his exploits. He doesn't ask Peggy why history is wrong. He explores New York, turns down interviews, and eventually moves to DC because SHIELD still has a use for him and at least it means he's fighting. He stops holding back because it's not like anyone even notices or cares. None of these people know him. None of them _want_ to know him. They have their idealized hero of the better age.

After Bucky fell, Steve was too consumed with despair to feel rage.

He's come to terms with the despair as best he can, and all he's feeling now is an anger so deep and wide there's no escape. But he can't get lost in it. He has to guide it, to use it. He does his best to not hurt Bucky, and he knows that every hit Bucky lands on him is deserved, is his punishment for letting this horrible thing happen to the best person in the world.

Steve wakes up in the hospital actually happy for just one heartbeat because holy shit, Bucky's alive. The anger is next, sharp and vicious and _hungry_. He curbs it for now, hiding it with grief and worry, and asks Natasha and Stark for help, tells Sam he doesn't have to put everything on hold, and they're better people than he deserves because they all come through for him.

Steve Rogers has fought his whole life. Fought the good fight. Been righteous. He was a terrier in the before, a yappy little dog easily kicked aside, and he liked it. Erskine turned him into something else and he tried to live up to what Erskine saw in him. Wars are bloody, though, and no one looked twice when soldiers died, especially if they were the enemy.

What's coming next is not clean. It probably won't make it into history, the way Steve Rogers didn't. History got Captain America. Steve wants to send Sam home, doesn't want to drag him down. He even tries, before their first strike into a Hydra safehouse, where intel puts the Winter Soldier just after Insight.

Sam doesn't turn back, though. He's a good man, like Bucky.

Sam's a good man, and so he deserves one more warning. "Sam," Steve says, readying the shield, "don't get between me and the enemy." Sam just looks at him, one brow raised, and then he shrugs.

Back in the before, Bucky finished the fights because none of those idiots were the enemy. They were just bullies. They didn't deserve to die.

Steve knows that if anyone should've been the Winter Soldier, should've been hollowed out and filled in with blood and death, it was him. Not Bucky. Never Bucky.

He's not a yappy little terrier anymore. And he's got no one to answer to.

But he's got anger enough to burn the world, and he's going to kill everyone who ever could've possibly hurt Bucky Barnes.

(When Bucky's enough of himself again, he says, "I never wanted you to kill for me."

"I know," Steve says, face buried in Bucky's neck, hands clasped at Bucky's back.)

In the before, Bucky finished fights. In the war, Bucky finished fights before they even started.

In the now, Hydra's mostly dead and when that's done, Steve'll see who's next. There's always a fight and he's still got so much anger.


	167. ficlets

Not my characters. These spread across the Marvel movies (with a focus, of course, on Steve & Bucky). Warnings for violence, character death, and references to torture. Pairings vary. These range from 6 words to 5 sentences.

* * *

><p><strong>MCU, Steve, Exhaustion<strong>

Bucky in his arms - finally, rest.

**Any, any, he/she was the best of us** [Marvel movies]

Bucky dies (for real, this time, bleeding out in Steve's arms) for Steve. Takes the shot for Steve.

And Steve - _splinters_. He waits until Bucky's gone and then he raises his head to watch the fight.

Everything that was good's bled out.

**MCU, Darcy/Steve, the time she saved him from the bad guy**

Look, Darcy once tased the God of Thunder, okay? Like, yeah, he was human at the time, _but still_ - how many people can say that?

One, that's how many. So these idiotic guys in the stupid outfits trying to overwhelm Captain goddamned America, they are _so_ going down because her taser's fully charged and the goddamned Black Widow has been giving her lessons, and can these guys compare to _Thor_?

No, they fucking can't.

**any Whedonverse. any. Plan C** [Marvel movies]

Plan A goes out the window when a mask falls off an assassin's face.

Plan B is ground into the dirt when that same assassin is served up as the scapegoat for a fucking Nazi cult that should've died 70 years ago.

Plan C, though, Plan C is good. Steve thinks he probably shouldn't like Plan C so much, but he knows, deep down, that it was always there, percolating as he learned his new limits, as he saw that power corrupts more than he'd ever even imagined.

Plan C is to scorch everything and start over, and Bucky's trembling behind him, the world is shouting in front of him, and he thinks, _Yes, this is what I was made for_.

**Any, any, what he or she would say about his/her death if he/she knew exactly how/when/etc. he/she would die** [Marvel movies, x2]

He falls, but Steve walks off that train, which means he's fine with it.

He's only twenty-six, and it's a long fall, but he's spent the last two decades making sure Stevie's safe, pulling him out of fights, putting the other guy down, so it's no different really.

What he doesn't know is what comes after - but if he did, _if he did_, he wants to think he'd do the same damn thing because Steve still lives.

.

He follows Steve onto the train; he picks up Steve's shield, takes aim.

_Better me than you, Stevie_, he thinks as he goes flying, _better me than you. _

When all is said and done, when Bucky Barnes finally dies years later and the asset stares out of his eyes - the last thing Bucky thinks is, _It was a fair trade_.

**Any, Any, Hogwarts AU** [Marvel movies, x4]

A familiar sight in the Hufflepuff common room after Steve Rogers does something stupidly brave in defense of another: Bucky Barnes shouting, "Goddamned Gryffindors!"

**Any, Any character that belongs in Hufflepuff, never mess with a badger** [Marvel movies, x2]

Bucky never starts the fights (_Steve_); sure as fuck finishes 'em, though.

**any. any. alternate universe.** [Marvel movies]

Steve fell, too.

Nothing is better.

**Any, any, Greed** [Marvel movies, x3]

They wanted two - a costly mistake as the Soldiers burnt it all down to reach each other again.

**Any, any, bad things come in twos** [Marvel movies, x3]

Unleashed, angry, _ravenous_ for revenge – the Hydra runs, hides, dies because the asset is beside the captain, hunting.

**any, any, crushing sadness** [Marvel movies (Loki)]

He's drowning - nobody offers a hand

**Captain America (movieverse), Steve/Bucky, remembering.**

_I know him,_ he thinks, watching the video. _Steve._

**any, any, consequences** [Marvel movies, x2]

"You left me alive," he tells the scientist, the soldier, any tendril of Hydra he comes across. "You shouldn't have."

**any, any, save me** [Marvel movies, x2]

The shot comes from nowhere, taking out the only goon Steve had missed, and he can't stop smiling and smiling.

**Any, any close-knit group, civil war** [Marvel movies]

It comes down to this: "Wasn't his fault," Steve says.

**Any, any, Life goes on** [Marvel movies, x3]

"I'm tired," James says. "Can't it just be over?"

Steve nods. "It's a big world. Let's get lost in it."

They've both died and come back - now they're gonna live.

**any. any. kill me please** [Marvel movies, x3]

"Please," he begs, "I'll never be safe." He can't do it himself, some code written deep into his bone by those fuckers –

"I'll kill myself after," Steve promises.

He chooses life.

**any, any, "I don't know if you know who you are until you lose who you are."** [Marvel movies]

Once, Bucky Barnes was - _good_. The asset... wants to be.

**Marvel Cinematic Universe, any, villains**

A hero is only the villain of someone else's story.

**Avengers, Bruce/Tony, surprise**

"I'm not afraid of you," Tony Stark says, and Bruce can tell it's the truth, and Tony continues with, "you're not the only one who can do damage, Brucie," and he's smiling, something a little dark in his eyes.

**Captain America (2011), Steve/Bucky, trust**

"I know you," he says, hair shorn and wearing ratty clothes, hands shoved into his pockets - his entire body is trembling, and Steve knows this is the only chance he will get, so he stands as still as he can, and he nods.

**any, any, the sentence that changed everything** [Marvel movies, x2]

"... Bucky?"

.

The asset says, "But I knew him," firming its jaw and waiting for punishment.

**any Whedonverse. any. tic-toc** [Marvel movies]

There is a countdown in Steve's mind, steadily working its way to zero, and when it gets there - there is a limit to his patience, to how long he'll wait for those in power to get their act together, and the world loses _years_ as he stares down at the file cataloging the barest details of what Bucky Barnes suffered.

**any. any. When it hurts like hell.** [Marvel movies]

He's enough of himself to know that violence is not the answer, that vengeance can't even actually be obtained because everyone who had a hand in making him is already dead (most of them too easily), but - he glances at Steve (always watching him with something too gentle in his eyes) and he knows that killing what's left won't fix things, but it'll make him feel a hell of a lot better and that's the best he gets.

**Any; Any; Thunder** [Thor]

The world shakes; somewhere, he's waiting.

**any. any. love at first sight** [Marvel movies]

"... Bucky?"

First was joy - then _rage_.

**any, any, teddy bear** [Winnie the Pooh/Avengers babies (x11)]

"Welcome!" Pooh Bear called as the new neighbors waddled up the lane.

"Hi!" the one in the lead said. "I'm Captain Ameribear." He held out a paw, which Pooh shook. The other bear avoided Pooh's gaze as Captain Ameribear said, "This is Bucky Bear."

"Welcome," Pooh said again. He smiled at them and returned to his walk as they continued on. Hopefully, they'd like the Wood.

**any. any/any. confession of love.** [Marvel movies, x2]

"'til the end of the line," the target slurs.

The asset hesitates.

**MCU, Winter Soldier, revenge.**

_Living well_, he reads, _is the best revenge_. Perhaps a truth. Maybe he should find things that make him smile.

They'll still burn.

**any. any. paying an old debt** [Marvel movies]

"Did you ever fear this?" he asks the old man, his left palm so cold against the man's face.

"Yes," the man says.

**any. any. The biggest mistake** [Marvel movies]

"Sergeant Barnes, do hold still," Zola mutters.

He's still alive.

**any. any. fake it 'til you make it** [Marvel movies]

First, he answers to _Barnes_, then _James_.

Finally - only Steve can use _Bucky_.

It doesn't feel like a lie anymore.

**Any, any/any, no mercy** [Marvel movies]

"Why do you beg? You programmed me not to listen."

**any. any. BFF** [Marvel movies]

"Well, you two nonagenarians sure took the _forever _part literally."

**Marvel Cinematic Universe, any +/ any, if they could make one person immortal, who would it be?** [x2]

"He wouldn't thank me," _Bucky_ says, pulling back from the stone, silver fingers glinting. "Or forgive me." _Never again alone._

**Any, Any, name** [Marvel movies (x3)]

"... Bucky?"

_James Buchanan Barnes_.

Winter Soldier, asset, puppet, weapon, toy.

_Friend._

He stares, silent, at the hand stretching out. "Do you know who I am?"

He reaches slowly, smiles. "Steve."

**any Renner fandom, any Renner character, hands** [x3, Marvel movies, Natasha/Clint]

She does not like being touched, except by him. He's gentle with animals and children, and he's forgotten how to be gentle with anything else. She smiles, kisses his palm.

**any, any/any, kisses** [Marvel movies, Natasha/Clint (x2)]

She doesn't remember her first kiss.

The first time she kissed him, he blushed, ducked his head, smiled so sweetly.

**Marvel Cinematic Universe, Clint Barton + Natasha Romanov, platonic soulmates**

Grinning brightly, she stretches across his lap like a cat.

**Any, any - if you knew how much I love you, you would run away** [Marvel movies]

There are so many things Bucky never tells Steve, before. Steve could really be somebody someday, and there has to be a dame out there who'll see it, too, and love Steve just as much as Bucky does.

There are so many things the man who wants to be Bucky again never tells Steve, because he is so damaged, now, and Steve deserves so much better.

**MCU, Bucky, he wishes he could forget**

He remembers all of it, even the fall and lying in the ice and snow waiting for a death that couldn't be bothered to arrive.

He wishes it had, sometimes. Other times, watching Steve just smile at him for sitting on the couch and watching another documentary about art thieves and forgers, he's glad death turned away.

**Any, any, lonely on the road** [MCU]

It's quiet, he thinks. He's never had quiet before, not outside his head, just inside.

He stares up at the sky for as long as he wants, walks until he chooses to stop, spreads his arms wide because he can - and he thinks, _I like this_.

**Any, any, never cared before** [MCU]

They ask if he's hungry, if he's tired, if he's in pain. They ask if he wants food, if he wants sleep, if he wants anesthetic.

He does not understand the questions.

**any. any/any (or any&any). sleeping together, but not _sleeping together_.** [MCU]

"So... how long's this been going on?" Stark asks, leering.

Sam sighs, "About since Barnes snuck in, far as I can tell."

On the couch, Steve's on his back, arms wrapped about Barnes, and Barnes' face is pressed into Steve's shoulder – and Steve tilts his head just enough to let him glare at them, so Sam grabs Stark and pulls him out of sight.

**any. any. "You're dead."** [MCU]

"Does this... weird you out, too?" Greg asks Rick as they watch the asset sit calmly in the middle of his cell, legs crossed, arms on his thighs, head down; it's how he's been sitting since they shoved him in there, still drugged from the takedown.

Rick shrugs, but Greg knows Rick has never dealt with the asset before - in fact, he's probably the only one left who has, since Rogers began his quest at eradicating every part of Hydra, and any outpost that had ever dealt with the asset was the first to go.

There's an explosion in the distance and Greg knows before the asset even lifts his head, smiling.

**Author's choice, any, daemon AU** [MCU]

"My name's Devra," the swallow says to the little blond boy crying over a dying mutt of a dog. "What's yours?"

Bucky kneels beside the boy and waits.

The boy's daemon jumps from his shoulder to Bucky's, changing from a mouse to a mouser, and says, "I'm Mala; he's Steve."

**any, any, monster** [Avengers movieverse]

They took a good man (he thinks he was, once, must have been, for the good man who is Captain America to love him so fiercely, so furiously) and tore out all that made him good, and poured in a loyal slave who was just as strong, just as fast, just as enduring as the only successful recipient of the serum, and they refined what he already knew. They made a weapon, as inevitable and implacable as winter – give him a target and let him off the leash (but not too far, never out of reach because he heals, he _heals_, his mind tries to fix itself, and they cannot allow him any memories at all _because _-)

They made him into a weapon, but the leash has broken, and his masters are running, and he is inevitable, he is implacable, he is _hunting_ (and the good man who is Captain America is next to him, eyes fierce and furious, and that little guy from Brooklyn, the one who never backed down, the one who went into enemy territory for what everyone else believed to be a corpse – he once swore to tear Hydra down, to not stop until they were all dead or captured, and there is no capturing now, there is only vengeance, and his hands have not tired yet).

**Author's choice, any, triggering a memory** [Marvel movies]

"Bucky?"

No.

Who?

_No_.

Who -

... _Steve?_

**MCU, Any (+/any), Modern day myths.**

Steve Rogers was a loud-mouth punk who stood up to bullies and got knocked on his ass.

Captain America was perfect, always doing what was right for his people and country.

Three days out of the ice, Steve gives up reading his biographies; none of 'em are right.

**Any, Any/Any, We'll meet again.**[Marvel movies]

Bucky falls and Steve watches until he can't anymore; he barely manages to crawl back into the train, and he doesn't look at Zola because if he does -

It was Bucky's choice, Peggy says, and Steve knows that's true, but it doesn't -

_I'll see you soon, Buck,_ Steve thinks, laying down on the floor of the plane.

**any. any/any. "You're lying but I don't care."** [Marvel movies]

James tells them he doesn't remember being the Winter Soldier, or Bucky Barnes, either; they try to keep him contained, at first, throwing interrogators and shrinks at him in equal measure, and one of the starstruck idiots lets slip to Captain America that, _Yeah, we caught the Winter Soldier, isn't that awesome?_

Nothing on earth can stand against Steve Rogers, when he puts his mind to breaking through it, and when the knob twists and the door swings open, James follows him out.

_I don't remember_, James whispers, and Steve replies, _That doesn't matter_, and it doesn't, it never will, and they can chase, if they want, because Steve's got a mission now, and James never tells him about the dreams, and Steve knows anyway because his heart and soul was given a boy from Brooklyn a long time ago, and James is rising from that boy's ashes, and if Steve has to relight the world on fire to keep him safe, then by god, he will.

**MCU, Steve/Bucky or Sam/any, winning unwinable battles**

"C'mon, Stevie," he cajoles, "get out of bed." He pokes Steve's shoulder, saying, "There's a picture I wanna take ya to."

Steve almost died again last week, his body failing around him. Most everyone would've given up by now, Bucky knows.

But Steve pulls the thin sheet down from over his head, gives Bucky one of his lesser glares, and asks, "Which picture?"

**MCU, Any, _And I know you heard about me/So hey, let's be friends/I'm dying to see how this one ends_**

They're pretty sure 'Black Widow' is a codename, handed down from operative to operative, but either way, Clint's supposed to kill her. If another one pops up later, he'll kill her, too - best shot in the world, never misses. Good ole Hawkeye.

Everyone knows the legends, the rumors, the hearsay and what's gotta just be straight up lies.

He looks at her through the scope and thinks, _Fuck, she's so young_, and he watches her, following from city to city, and then he makes a different call.

**Author's choice, author's choice, _Yesterday, upon the stair,/I met a man who wasn't there./He wasn't there again today,/I wish, I wish he'd go away..._** [Marvel movies]

The small man is following you. He calls you _Bucky_ like that means something; it echoes inside you, calling up - calling up the man who was before the weapon. That man haunts your dreams, the brilliant and bright man who smiled and laughed and _lived_.

The small man wants the man who was, the man Hydra burned out of you, the man who fought every day you weren't wiped.

The man who was... he is gone, you know, no matter how the small man hopes and searches and yearns.

**Any, any, body language** [Marvel movies]

Jim has to relearn facial expressions, how to move, how to express himself with his body; Steve has to relearn how to read what Jim's movements mean.

**any, any, going rogue** [Marvel movies]

"Cap, what do you think you're doing?"

Blood is still dripping from his hands. Smoke billows into the sky.

"Steve, please!"

He tried asking, first. Rebuffs, denials, bald-faced lies.

"Oh, fuck, _fuck_—"

One last door, designed to withstand the Hulk.

"Stop, stop, you don't understand!"

Inside, Bucky is chained down.


	168. everybody knows the fight was fixed

Title: everybody knows the fight was fixed

Fandom: Highlander/Marvel movies

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Leonard Cohen

Warnings: spoilers for Cap2, ignores Avengers2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 200

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any. my way or the highway

* * *

><p>"Look, let me explain this in the simplest way possible," the man says, pausing to smile. It's a creepy smile, showing most of his teeth, and his body is loose, relaxed. Ryan's seen Captain America fight, though, so he knows being relaxed means nothing.<p>

"You have contained back there someone under my protection," the man continues, still smiling, "and I've come to reclaim him. You can either remove yourself or be removed, entirely up to you." He's completely accentless, and his hand is now on the – hilt of a sword? What the fuck?

"He's the _Winter Soldier_," Ryan says, because that should say it all – the man's a traitor, and a monster, and while the various governments argue, the _Winter Soldier_ is going to stay in his cage. Even if Captain America is raising a fuss about it. Who is this guy anyway?

"And I am Death." The words are said simply. Plainly. While Ryan blinks at him, the man looks past him. "You've tripled the guards," he murmurs. "Smart. But nowhere near enough."

The man drops the smile, the genial attitude for, "You see, I once promised to take him in, when he finally got away."

And he moves.


	169. the fight in the dog

Title: the fight in the dog

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: ignores Avengers2; references to violence

Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 560

Point of view: third

Prompt: MCU, any, we have the Stark-sized emergency, the Hulk-sized emergency, and the Captain America-sized emergency, which would you rather?

Note: title from this Mark Twain quote - "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.

* * *

><p>"Do you know what you're doing?" Stark asks calmly through the phone. Steve's a little surprised, to be honest - he'd expected Stark to rant and rave and already be on the way after him.<p>

"I do," Steve tells him. He's done it before, after all: chased Bucky all the way to Hydra and torn Hydra down to save him. He's going to do it better this time, though. There'll be nothing left when he's done but freshly-salted earth.

"Do you need help?" Stark asks. There's machinery whirring in the background, what sounds like Jarvis talking to someone.

"For the clean-up after," Steve admits. "But Stark – I don't expect people to understand, or to condone what I'm doin'. That's not gonna stop me."

"I get it, Cap," Stark says. He laughs, short and sharp. "He's your Rhodey and your Pepper all in one convenient package, right? So burn it down, Captain Rogers. Burn it all down. I'll be there to clean up the mess after."

Not for the first time, Steve's glad he and Stark are on the same side.

.

Banner is waiting at Steve's first choice for his campsite. He wants to go rampaging in right now but that won't help Bucky – he's tired, and he's still got a bit of healing left to do. In the morning, though, he's going to begin the assault, and nothing Banner says will change his course.

"Do you remember when I said I was always angry?" Banner asks, handing an energy bar to Steve. Steve nods, so Banner continues, "I've been angry for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is yelling at my dad for making my mom cry." Banner chuckles. "All that did, of course, was give him a new target. I know anger, Captain. I know rage. And I know when a man is drowning in it." He throws a glance in the direction of the base and says, "You go in there angry, you've already lost."

Steve smiles. The ache in his leg has finally faded. Sunup is in two hours. They have to know he's coming. "I lost seventy years ago, Dr. Banner," he says, "when I didn't jump after Bucky." He rises to his feet. "You gonna be my distraction or not?"

Banner sighs. "You know how this is gonna end, don't you?"

Steve picks up the shield.

.

It's not easy. It's not clean. Natasha's off on a quest, and Sam's been sent home with broken ribs, and Thor and Barton are who knows where, and Stark's waiting, and Banner's tearing up one side of the complex while Steve forces his way through another.

There are two ways for this to end. Bucky surrendered himself to the American government three days ago, even after Steve had said, _You touch him, you die_. But he let Bucky go. It was what Bucky wanted.

The agents that secreted him away, though, they're Hydra straight to the core, and they're all going to die.

There are two ways for this to end.

If Bucky is alive, Steve will be merciful and make the deaths quick, and confine the deaths to this base, until Bucky is ready.

If Bucky is _not_ alive…

_If Bucky is not alive_.

Steve hefts the shield with one hand, breaks a man's neck with the other, and goes down down down.


	170. you have not stood up to live

Title: you have not stood up to live

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: post-Cap2

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 140

Point of view: third

Prompt: any Whedonverse. any. when surviving is not enough

* * *

><p>He's alive. That's all that can be said, really.<p>

_asset soldier you it asset weapon tool toy it you asset_

He dreams. He wakes. He walks. He hides.

He breathes.

.

He does not know who hunts him; he knows someone is. Multiple someones, probably. To reclaim the weapon. To punish the man. To harvest the knowledge he must have.

He will not let them. It is his choice, now. _His_.

He is alive. He likes sunlight. Does not like cold. Enjoys warm bread and children's laughter. Finds comfort in a stray dog that tucks herself against him one night. Music is pleasing, but so can quiet be. He does not like absolute silence.

He is... _living_. He will continue to live.

.

"Do you know who you are?" Steve Rogers asks.

"No," he answers. "But I know who I'm becoming."


End file.
